


(Coming To Your) Senses

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean in Denial, Dean is In Over His Head, Domestic, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Misunderstandings, Protective Dean Winchester, Realization, Sam is a Little Shit, Sam is a Sweetheart, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Switching, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Cas is now human and adjusting to that in the bunker with Dean (and Sam's) help. Things are going well, smooth even, with Cas mostly being the proverbial duck to water when it comes to humanity. But a major misunderstanding comes along to mess with what's become the Winchester version of domesticity, and suddenly all of that easiness and simplicity is shattered; what will it take to fix that?





	1. Fanart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people :)
> 
> What to tell you about this fic:
> 
> 1) This was intended to be fluff, fluff and more fluff. However angst wanted to get its two pennies worth in as well, so there's a fair amount of that thrown into the mix too (other currencies are available).  
> 2) If you're here for smut, well of _course _there will be smut... although not for a long, long time, not until late in chapter 12. If you read through it though, I hope you'll see why it took so long to get to that point (and you'll agree the build up was worth it!) - and I can promise chapter 12 is little _but _smut, just to make up for keeping you (and them) waiting :)____  
>  3) If you're reading this as I'm posting it then I'll leave this as 'not rated' until we get to _that _chapter because before that it's nothing but angst and fluff.__  
>  4) The story starts and ends with a series of 'snapshots' of their lives, with the 'actual' story being told in the middle.  
> 5) Charlie is alive in this one ( _hurray! _) and though we don't get to 'see' her directly she does play an integral part to the story (I think so, anyway)._  
>  6) Donna and Jody are also in the background though again, indirectly.  
> 7) as is Claire, but she makes an actual appearance towards the very end.  
> 8) There are neither squick moments (I _hope _not anyway!) nor deaths in this story, and whilst I can't promise not to make you cry in certain places, I hope you'll approve of the way it ends :)  
>  9) The usual - this is all already written, there'll be regular updates, nothing's going to be abandoned but my grip on reality (already long gone, so no fear there).  
> 10) that's... a lot notes... I'll stop now...___
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always; I can't imagine you'll enjoy reading this even half as much as I enjoyed writing it because apparently, I was in need of what essentially is a pile of sap (sort of, if you squint Cas-style at it) :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update to add the beautiful artwork of [@wolfgirl1021](http://wolfgirl1021.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this! Beautiful book cover by @wolfgirl1021 on Tumblr - thanks honey! :) xx


	2. Fanart

“You got five minutes then I’m going without you. And you’ll get whatever I pick; _whatever_ I pick, and I won’t listen even a little bit when you complain about it,” Dean hollered down the hallway before turning on his heel and rolling his eyes at Sam, passing him to grab a glass of water as he waited.

“I blame you,”

Sam snorted out the sip he’d just taken of his own drink and stared wide-eyed up at Dean once he’d turned round to sigh heavily at him from where he was leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“What’s my fault? And... how’s it my fault?” Sam asked, looking every part incredulous at Dean’s accusation even if he didn’t know what it was for.

“You. You criticised him _once_ , made noises about looking presentable, about—about _accessorising_ —look at us, Sam: are we seriously the kind of guys that do that? But now,” Dean said, tilting his chin towards the doorway in a way Sam assumed was to indicate Cas, “He takes forever to get ready, making sure he looks _acceptable_. I swear, if he comes out here and asks if he looks okay—”

“He’s just… he’s still a bit new to this,” Sam replied very carefully, as though worried about lighting up a fuse.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a snort of his own. “He is. He’s also his own person. So what if he wants to wear shit that clashes or is covered in some kinda... I don’t know, bee-print or something—”

“We were on a case. He was supposed to be undercover, Dean; I wasn’t—”

“Point is,” Dean continued, waving his hand as though to dismiss Sam’s interruption, “He’s his own person. He’s figuring out how he wants to look for himself. Taking way too long about it, I gotta admit, but—”

Their conversation was disrupted by Cas’ sudden appearance in the kitchen, coming to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway with his eyes flitting uncertainly between them both as though curious to know what they had been speaking about. Dean’s eyes drifted over Cas and he smiled; Cas physically seemed to grow at the approval he saw there, and the residual stiffness that had been in his shoulders when he’d first entered the room disappeared altogether as Dean stepped closer to him, smiling wider.

Dean, reaching out to tweak a tiny part of Cas’ shirt collar that was sticking up so that it was smoothed down, gripped his shoulder softly for a moment before stepping back, and smiled wider again. “Looking good, Cas. Very _acceptable_. ‘s a good color for you,”

“You think so?” Cas said, and the slight tone of doubt there, coupled with Cas awkwardly curling his shirt sleeve in his fist had Dean’s heart melting just enough for him to spin round from where he’d been starting to turn away from him, and gently pat his cheek before turning back again, apparently not needing to say the actual words for Cas to understand what he really thought.

“Where’re you going anyway?” Sam asked, eyes flicking quickly between Dean and Cas with an odd expression hidden behind the tiniest of smiles.

“Garden center,” Dean answered, patting himself down to check for car keys and wallet. “Cas needs some stuff,”

How Cas had turned what had effectively been a patch of parched grass and dirt into a small oasis of a garden that attracted all the bees and butterflies Cas seemed to approve of was something of a mystery to Dean. Cas hadn’t been human that long, really, and he’d gotten to grips with some things that Dean wished he’d never have to, to fit into this hunting life of theirs. But the garden was something of a green miracle, and so what if Cas spent much of his free time tending to plants, muttering to them or sometimes just sat on the bench Dean had painstakingly carved and waxed for him, and watching his work flourish before his eyes? It made Cas happy, and Cas being happy was honestly one of Dean’s favorite things to see.

“You ready to go?” Dean turned briefly back to Cas to check, nodding as Cas nodded, nudging against his shoulder on the way out and leaving Sam to smirk after them, shaking his head to himself.

* * *

“Here,”

Cas’ head tilted down to look at the garden gloves Dean had pressed against his chest and he gently took them in his own grip, looking back up at Dean with a small, curious smile. Dean rolled his eyes but reached out, smiling himself, to grab Cas’ free hand and turn it, palm up, to rest against his own.

“See this?” he said, gently swirling his thumb over a thankfully now fading scar before raising his eyebrow as though daring Cas to challenge him. “This is what happens when you don’t wear gloves, or when you don’t tell me you need new ones when the old ones get all torn,”

Cas’ gaze slipped down to where Dean continued stroking over his palm, giving the slightest of shakes of his head. “But you already bought me a new pair the last time we were here, Dean. And… this is better now,”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, gently folding Cas’ fingers over as though to cover the scarred palm and slid his own hand away over his knuckles. “It’s fine now. And I shoulda bought you an extra pair last time just in case. But you get dirt and all kindsa stuff in a cut like that when you’re out there and… and it’ll get infected. And sore. And you won’t be able to do anything—not garden, not hunt… hold a burger with two hands. And hell; we already know you’re a messy eater as it is,”

Dean’s last sentence was said with a soft wink that showed he was teasing and Cas’ eyes crinkled up on hearing it.

“I am no messier than you,” Cas retorted, quietly turning away and carefully setting the gloves down in the cart as though he thought they might break if he didn’t.

“Doubtful. Had way, way more years practice ‘n you,”

Cas turned back to him to grin but then spun back around to look down in the cart. His hand reached out to carefully stroke over the leaves of a plant that he hadn’t put there himself, then Cas turned back yet again to look at Dean expectantly.

“You wish me to plant _Eysenhardtia texana_ , Dean?”

Dean chuckled, stepping forward and looking down at the plant with him. “‘S your garden, Cas. But I read somewhere that—that Texas kidneywood’s good for attracting your bees. Thought you might like it,”

“I do,” Cas assured him with a grateful smile, leaning into his side for a few seconds in silent thanks.

“Good. Anything else you want while we’re here?”

Cas shook his head absently as though still thinking, then more decisively when he was sure. “I am ready to go. Thank you, Dean,”

“Sure,” Dean said, pushing the cart along and heading for the checkout. “Hey, Cas,”

Cas looked back at him blankly, that infamous head tilt making Dean fight back a ridiculous grin.

“Say it again,”

Cas continued looking curiously at him as they walked side by side, turning the corner of an aisle and coming to a stop, waiting to be served.

“Say what again, Dean?”

“You know. Texas kidneywood, but in your Latin,”

“It is not my Latin, Dean, it is—”

“Say it anyway. Please?”

Cas gave a small amused huff and shook his head as they stepped forward to the now free checkout operator.

“ _Eysenhardtia texana_ ,” Cas said solemnly, leaning in a little to Dean as he spoke.

Dean’s answering smile was instant, and huge, and the checkout operator looked between them both with a grin of his own as he scanned their items.

Dean looked back at him, instantly guarded and cautious, wondering if he’d been too distracted to miss something important going on around them.

“Hey,” _Ian_ laughed, Dean caught with a sneaky look at his name tag, watching as he smiled at Cas affectionately, then positively beamed back at Dean as he handed over his card. “Who doesn’t have a language kink, right?”

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean said, steering the cart away and leaving Cas to stare back at checkout operator Ian curiously for a moment before following him out.

* * *

Dean looked up and for what had to be the third time caught the smirk on the sales assistant’s face as her eyes flitted over him.

“Got a problem there or something?” he groused out, glaring because he hated that knowing look she was giving him and not being able to interpret it for himself.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said easily, raising her hand and turning her head away, straightening up from where she’d been slouched with her hand propping up her chin as she blatantly stared at him. “Frankly I’d be sat there mesmerized like that myself if he was mine,”

Dean turned his gaze from her over to the curtain Cas was behind trying on what felt like every item of clothing in the store, then back to her with an indignantly raised eyebrow. “‘Mine?’ What is he, a possession or something?”

For reasons that Dean couldn’t understand, the sales assistant’s face split into the widest grin imaginable at his words, and that was followed up by what sounded very much like a longing, wistful sigh. Dean felt himself bristling but couldn’t really put a finger on what that was about either so glared at her again and firmly turned his attention back to the sometimes shifting curtain in front of him.

“How you doing in there, Cas?” Dean said suddenly, getting to his feet and stepping closer, anything to be away from the woman’s constant attention.

“I have three shirts I like, and you were right about the jeans—this size does fit better, thank you, Dean,”

“Sounds good,” Dean smiled, nodding to himself. “So? Think you need much longer, or...? Getting kinda hungry out here, so—”

“My apologies,” Cas said immediately, sweeping back the curtain with the rings whistling along the pole at the suddenness of it. “I was debating this one and then I am finished,”

Dean’s eyes drifted down to the shirt Cas was wearing, taking in the awkward way he tugged at it as though not sure it was quite right. Dean smiled, reaching out to bat his hand away and fastening a button that hadn’t completely gone through its hole, pressing his finger there for a moment before pulling back.

“Looks good to me, Cas,”

“Are you sure?” Cas said doubtfully, looking down at himself again. Dean huffed, reaching out and pressing his fingers under Cas’ chin to force his head up and look at him.

“Yeah. I’m _sure_ , Cas. Looks really good on you. Honest. You should get it,”

Cas turned back to look in the changing booth then back towards Dean, somehow doing that and avoiding the eye contact at the same time. “I have many items here, Dean,”

“Good. Need some stuff of your own. Not that I mind sharing, but—”

“Well you two are just plain adorable,”

Dean tensed up instantly, feeling it wick up his spine and across his shoulders as the sales assistant from a few moments before appeared by their side. Cas looked her over curiously but seemed unaffected, and Dean was glad for that if nothing else.

“Yeah, adorable. Cas, honestly, take it all—”

“He’s right you know,” the woman said, appreciatively looking Cas up and down in a way that was nothing but predatory. “That shirt looks really, really good on you,”

Dean turned fully around then to glare at her, with his earlier incredulous look replaced with one of burgeoning anger, before stepping very deliberately in front of Cas to block her view. “When you’ve finished leering over him, maybe you could, I don’t know, go harass some other customers instead, huh?”

Dean’s face softened instantly when he spun back around to Cas, so that the anger that was boiling through him wouldn’t be seen by him at all. “C’mon, Cas. You about done?”

Cas’ eyes darted uncertainly towards the assistant then with shy warmth back at Dean, and nodded.

“I am, just give me another moment,”

* * *

Dean was unknowingly bracing for the sounds before they even really woke him, but that didn’t mean hearing them was any easier to bear. There was no soft waking from his dreams so he could blink himself awake, not that many of his dreams were ever that soft anyway; just a jolt that had him sat upright and gasping, reaching fingers digging into the sheets either side of him fiercely as though to anchor him to a reality he didn’t want to exist.

One second, two. Another, and another passed in silence, long enough for Dean to doubt the source of his disturbance, and then there it was again. A muffled, choked whimper that through walls was barely anything. But to a practiced ear that had been listening for exactly those noises, it was as though an alarm had been sounded and some _thing_ was unreasonably clawing at his heart for attention.

With a curse under his breath Dean threw back the bedcovers, allowed himself to feel a second of steadiness as his toes pressed against the cool bunker floor, and then he was up. A couple of strides and he was out of the room; a couple more and he was outside the room adjacent to his own, debating as he had done on every other night like this whether to knock first or just let himself in.

Letting himself in had won out each and every time up until now, because the tortured sounds from the other side of the door were agony to him. This time was clearly going to be no different; Dean took a breath, wrapped his hand around the handle, turning it and unnecessarily pushing his full body weight against the door to shove it open, his heart sinking at the familiar sight before him.

That Cas even needed to sleep these days was still unsettling for Dean from to time, as though somehow he had managed to forget. But seeing him writhe and tremble, moaning out against whatever evils were haunting his dreams was something else entirely. A shuffle forward after quietly closing the door, a hesitant pause before Dean was reaching out, sliding his hand around Cas’ upper arm, gently shaking him to wake.

“Cas,” he tried, though as his own voice was little more than a murmur there was little chance of Cas being actually able to hear him, he thought.

“Cas,” A little bit louder, a lot more urgent; Cas’ skin beneath the edge of his t-shirt was clammy against Dean’s palm, and Dean found himself swallowing thickly, worrying that perhaps it had taken him longer to wake this time, leaving Cas stranded in his nightmares for far longer than was ever going to be necessary.

“Cas,” now with a firmer shake, and a firmer, more desperate volume. Dean found himself sat beside Cas on the bed, his right hip pressed up against Cas’ as he half-leaned over him, both anxious to wake him and scared that he would startle him even more being sat like this if he were to wake suddenly and look up.

“C’mon, Cas, wake up for me, would you?” Dean pleaded; and Cas finally stilled beneath his fingers. There was a single soft gasp and then Cas was reaching out, flailing his arm around as though searching for then finding Dean’s hand, gripping it tight as though Dean was his tether to the waking world.

“I am sorry, Dean,” Cas stammered out thickly, his voice tacky with sleep and his swallow sounding painful. “I did not mean to wake you again,”

“S’fine, Cas,” Dean told him, because it was fine, and it wasn’t. He didn’t mind being woken like this, didn’t mind doing anything for Cas at all, but that he had to, that Cas was suffering in the first place, well. That was never going to sit well with Dean, even if he wasn’t sure how to actually say that to him. “Here, sit up for me,”

Reaching out for Cas’ other arm to grip gently around his elbow, Dean managed to get him sat up, noting how when Cas was sleepy like this he weighed an absolute ton. Dean leaned to the side and grabbed the glass of water he’d started insisting Cas take with him because he woke up perpetually thirsty and often wandered around the bunker late in the night getting distracted from actually going back to bed after getting himself a drink.

The bags under Cas’ eyes had grown too dark, and that’s when Dean had started pressing a glass into his hand before he went to bed, insisting Cas at least try and stay there and get some rest, if not actual sleep. Dean held the glass out now for Cas and watched his trembling hands snake out to grasp it, with Dean tracking the movement from his hands to Cas’ lips and back again, until Dean was silently taking the offered glass from his fingers once again, sliding it back on to the side.

“Wanna talk about it?”

As expected, Cas shook his head in firm decline, leaving Dean to grimace at what his imagination would conjure up about whatever nightmare Cas had just woken from. Dean hated not being able to help.

“Can I do anything?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer and wondering if he should just go ahead and settle in for what Cas was about to ask of him.

“Please. Can you stay?”

The brokenness of Cas’ reply almost broke Dean just having to hear it; but without hesitation, Dean nudged at Cas’ leg to prompt him to shift over then pulled back the duvet and laid down beside him. Waiting a moment for the uncomfortable heat of Cas’ previous thrashing around to dissipate from the sheets, Dean settled himself back against the bed, and Cas shuffled against him instantly, nudging and pressing into his side. Dean lifted his arms at the contact, and Cas sighed in what sounded a lot like relief as he nestled into Dean’s chest, sighing a little more as Dean wrapped his arms around him to hold him tight.

“Sleep, Cas. Nothing’s gonna get you here. Promise,”

Knowing that sleep wouldn’t come to claim him any time soon, Dean allowed himself the luxury of hearing Cas’ breath even out, that little half-huff he always gave just before he fell asleep, and then the deeper, even breathing that reassured Dean that Cas was definitely now sleeping.

Dean glanced down at the dark outline that was Cas held securely in his arms and squeezed softly, allowing relaxation to wash through him so that he could fall asleep himself.

* * *

Morning arrived, with Cas stirring against Dean and waking him once more, though in a much gentler way than he had done in the middle of the night. Dean looked down at Cas blinking blearily back up at him and couldn’t help the affectionate smile that took over his face as Cas slowly began to focus his eyes.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas rasped out, dropping his chin down on Dean’s chest with a gentle thud and closing his eyes again as quick as he had opened them.

“Morning, Cas. Better now?”

Cas nodded against him without opening his eyes; Dean automatically tightened his arms around him and sighed, soaking up Cas’ warmth.

“You ever gonna talk about it?” Dean added, and as he knew he would, Cas huffed to himself and dropped down on the bed beside him with his back very firmly turned to him.

Dean smiled to himself for a total of three seconds then rolled over, throwing his arm around Cas’ waist and fitting himself up against Cas’ back. “I’m gonna take that as a no,”

“You do not enjoy talking,”

“I think we both know that’s not strictly true,” Dean disagreed, shuffling that tiny fraction closer and smirking to himself as Cas, though grumbling, pressed back against him.

“I did not mean your interviewing technique with witnesses—”

“Neither did I—”

“Or your continual flirting with attractive women—”

“Again, neither did I,” Dean laughed, as Cas huffed in what sounded like indignance. “What I meant, is that… okay so I don’t exactly enjoy difficult conversations. But I’ll always listen if you need me to. You know that, right, don’t you?”

Cas sighed out hard, settling back against Dean a little more. “I do. Thank you, Dean. They are simply nightmares. There is nothing more to them. They will pass,”

“Cas,” Dean said, soft as though knowing Cas’ objections before he even gave them voice. “Not that… not that it’s a problem, but… how many nights have we ended up like this. huh?”

To emphasize the _this_ Dean reached out for Cas’ hand under the blanket and pressed it back against Cas’ stomach and slotted his fingers in between his.

“If this is a problem for you,” Cas started in exactly the tone Dean had expected; Dean gripped between his fingers a little tighter to hold him firmly in place.

“Never gonna be a problem doing anything for you, Cas. Told you that a million times. You’re family, okay?”

Dean listened to the various disgruntled sounds Cas made, letting him work through it in silence and knowing eventually Cas would sigh, seem to melt into the mattress, and reach his free arm out to cover Dean’s.

Sure enough, Cas’ fingers began stroking their way up Dean’s arm before gripping lightly around it and holding him there, Dean feeling the depth of Cas’ sigh against his own chest. “I am fine, Dean. I will be fine,”

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Gotta at least be _boning_ , c'mon; just look at 'em—it's like they forgot there's a whole other world outside their own personal bubble or something. Like...you could power this place off of the sexual crackle between them. Can't say it's tension 'cos they gotta be _doing_ it, right?"

Slowly drawing his hand back from where he'd been about to turn on the faucet Dean paused, straightened up a little, turning his head and smiling at the overheard conversation in curiosity.

"Nah, can't be just boning. I mean sure, that's definitely happening, but c'mon, look at they way they just can't keep their eyes off of each other. It's insane,"

Smiling a little harder Dean looked towards the doorway of the dining room bathroom and wondered if the staff knew their backroom door was even open—and that customers could overhear every single word of whatever it was they were saying.

"What's insane is that there's a couple that good looking in our greaseball of a diner in the first place. They look so out of place—I almost wanted to turn them away, tell them to find somewhere clean to eat,"

A third person seemed to have joined in, because Dean heard a cleared voice, a huff of annoyance, and a, "Hey. It's a little shabby, sure, and okay. This place needs more than a lick of paint. But it is clean,"

"Alright employee of the year, you've gone earned your brownie points now, we'll be sure to put up a plaque with your name on for you to give the ole spit 'n polish every time you pass. Now go back out and see if loved-up-in-a-booth want their coffees topping off, wouldya? Tell us if you overhear anything juicy,"

A sigh and shuffling feet told Dean the waitress in question was doing just that.

"Can't be doing with these new enthusiastic people they keep employing all the time,"

"Oh, hush. Bet you were just the same when you started back in, what, 1911 or something,"

A loud, thwacking sound followed by a dejected _ow_ floated over to Dean's ears, letting him imagine a dishcloth or something to the back of a head.

Again, Dean found that he was grinning to himself, oddly pleased to hear that the place really was clean, and even more pleased to be overhearing some harmless gossip about people he didn't even know. Maybe if he could figure out where this mystery couple was sat in the diner, he'd be able to make his own assessment. Dean wondered about sharing his opinions with the staff and had to hold back a snort of laughter at the urge to do just, thinking how it probably wouldn't be appreciated at all if he tried to join in.

Finished with washing his hands, Dean shut off the faucet again and slowly reached out for a paper towel, still listening out.

"Can you even imagine what it must be like?" The voice now speaking was sighing and sounding half-blissed out; Dean found himself taking extra long to dry his fingers as he waited to see what she was talking about.

"What what's like?"

"You know. Sex. Between them. Man, what I wouldn't give for viewing privileges of seeing some of that going on up close. Gotta be hot as fuck,"

"That and all sweet and tender and all too. Gotta be—I mean look at his face,"

He waited while it seemed that the waitresses did indeed together pause to look out at a customer's face, and Dean grinned as he heard yet another sigh.

"Yeah. Hot as fuck and tender. Like, perfect," Another longing sigh followed, and Dean grinned harder, wondering if the customer in question had any idea they were under such scrutiny. He half couldn't wait to get back out there and see what all the fuss was about for himself, but then a huge part of him wanted to stay and listen as well so that he wouldn't miss anything.

Dean looked in the mirror during a lull in conversation that he assumed was because a customer was waiting to be served. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it and deciding he needed to get a haircut sometime soon, told himself that the amount of stubble on his chin absolutely meant it was time for a shave, and that those wrinkles around his eyes seemed to have taken on a mind of their own and had started to spread.

Dean sighed, prodding at the corners of his eyes lightly and forcing back the thought that they were all getting old, each one of them, and what that might mean for their hunting lives, and for so many other things.

He'd noticed the lines on Sam's face too, and Cas' even, and that was something that really was a little too bitter to swallow. Cas had aged over the years, sure, because there was no way to prevent a vessel doing that. But when he was still an angel the changes had been subtle, and there was also the knowledge that anything that went wrong with him healthwise Cas could fix himself. He didn't have that now, and that made Dean's protectiveness of him flare up in unreasonable proportions sometimes, hating it when Cas got even so much as a cold.

Speaking of Cas, Dean thought to himself, stretching a little and giving himself the final once-over in the mirror, Cas was probably wondering where he'd got to given how long he'd been stood there in the bathroom. Dean headed for the door but was stopped in his tracks by the conversation between the waitresses starting up all over again.

"Who do you reckon... you know. Who goes where?"

"Goes where... what, you mean like who tops and bottoms?"

"Yeah,"

Dean drew a hand up to cover his mouth to stop the laughter from bursting out. This was the best thing he'd heard in ages; he couldn't wait to tell Cas once they were back in the car, although, Dean thought to himself, in danger of laughing all over again, Cas might not even get it in the slightest. Not that that would stop Dean telling him anyway.

"It's so hard to tell. I mean they both look like they could do both, you know?"

"Yeah,"

"I mean. I'd not be complaining either way if it was either one of them, you know? Any of it, all of it: I'll take the lot,"

"God, wouldn't we all,"

Dean heard yet another long, somewhat creepy sigh, and decided that that was enough; he couldn't hang around here all day without it looking shifty as hell, and now that the waitresses seemed to be getting a little intense in their fantasizing he was losing interest.

"His hair though. God his hair. You reckon they came straight here from... you know..."

"Sure does look like it. Look at the spaced out look on his face. Looks blissed out as fuck,"

"I'd sure not object to getting my hands through his hair myself,"

"I'd not mind having the other one bliss me out,"

Dean grinned to himself, shaking his head as he silently walked by the door to the staff area.

"Speaking of, where is the other one?"

"Beats me. Maybe the bathroom?"

Dean quickly made an exit and heard the staff door being swung firmly shut behind him. When he turned the corner and sought out Cas, he found him sat staring absently out of the window, and smiled to himself at the sight. Okay, so perhaps they were all getting a little older. And perhaps Cas was human now and not able to heal either himself or them from every bump and bruise they got. But Cas was doing such an amazing adjustment job to this, that Dean couldn't be more proud of him. Sure, there were still a lot of things for Cas to really learn about being human, and the fact that he was still suffering with nightmares and lack of sleep much more often than Dean would like needed to be dealt with somehow, but overall, Cas was good.

As though Cas could sense him watching, he slowly turned his gaze away from the window and over to Dean with a warm smile, something that Dean never didn't return these days.

Taking the final steps towards their table Dean reached out and drained the last of his coffee, hooking his thumbs in the direction of the door.

"You about ready to go?"

Cas nodded, neatly returning his cutlery to his plate and pushing the plate away from him before standing fluidly himself.

At the counter Dean reached for his wallet, folding it out and leafing through the bills there debating when he could next pick up some cash, before looking back up abruptly at the sharp inhale of breath directly in front of him. Dean pulled back a little when he saw a waitress staring back at him as though she'd been caught with her hand in the register, her mouth gaping open slightly and her eyes traveling between he and Cas comically slow.

"How much?" Dean asked, smiling in confusion and watching as she seemed to blink herself back into thinking.

"Uh... uh... hang on,"

The waitress turned away at such speed Dean couldn't help looking over at Cas, raising his eyebrows in question and lean in to mumble, "Any clue what that was about?"

Cas shrugged easily, appearing disinterested and unphased. "We need to stop for gas,"

"Yeah, I know, we'll do it soon as we leave here."

"Do you think..."

Dean watched Cas' face morph with uncertainty and chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, Cas, I'll get you candy, don't need to remind me,"

"Only if—"

"It's _candy_ , Cas. 'course it's okay, before you say. Already told you like a million times now—you need anything you just ask, okay? Whatever it is—"

"Technically I don't need candy, Dean, although—"

"Yeah, I know you and your sweet tooth," Dean grinned, absently patting Cas' cheek in affection and seeing him blush.

A clatter of cups from the other side of the counter had Dean's attention instantly and his hand dropping; he resisted the urge to take a physical step back away from the intense stares of three waitresses looking back at him like at any moment like they might actually squeal with excitement.

"Uh... how much?" he repeated uncertainly, with no idea where to look.

The first waitress mumbled out an amount as the other two continued to stare back at both he and Cas and whisper to each other loudly behind their hands, losing any pretense of discretion at all.

Having paid the bill Dean pressed his hand to Cas' lower back to break him from staring straight back at the waitresses in curiosity and nodded towards the door, gesturing for him to lead the way.

"Adorable. Bet he tops most; look at him being all _alpha_ ,"

"Oh, but look at the way the other one's holding the door open for him? So sweet,"

Instantly Dean froze up, turning back to find the three waitresses still watching them as they made their way out and then everything from his earlier overheard conversation clicked into place.

Stunned for a moment, Dean didn't know whether to comment, object, or just leave, but the urge to leave suddenly became much stronger than the other two options when he heard that loud, longing sigh behind him once more and knew the reason for it. Quickly picking up speed he followed Cas out, staring back over his shoulder for a final time and heading for the car, determinedly pushing the thought to one side.

* * *

"C'mon, guys, let's go. What's taking so long?"

Dean fought to keep the impatience from his voice as he gripped hard to the shopping cart, having searched the entire store for Sam and Cas for what felt like an abnormal length of time. Telling himself firmly he wouldn't let them wander off together next time Dean rounded a corner, and there they were, side by side, their unfathomable mumbles drifting over to him with their backs turned, not even acknowledging his appearance.

Dean gripped a little tighter around the cart handle, closed his eyes to give himself some strength—and patience, and cleared his throat.

"Guys. C'mon—"

"Cas is choosing," Sam replied, without even looking around, but Dean's anger dropped a touch immediately on hearing Sam's words.

"Choosing what?" he asked, pushing the cart to one side and coming to stand directly next to Cas, looking at the small pile of items in his hands then back up at him with a questioning shrug.

"I am attempting to find a scent," Cas told him, eyes still firmly fixed in front of him on the shelves as though unaware of Dean's eyes on him.

Dean reached out, taking the various bottles and jars of shampoos and shower gels from Cas' hands, wedging them in the crook of his elbow against his chest and inspecting each one in turn. "Oh yeah? Something specific?"

"I don't know," Cas groaned, his frustration almost palpable. "I cannot find it so I do not know what it is,"

Sam caught Dean's eyes discreetly when they leaned back in unison to glance at one another behind Cas' head, a small amount of concern there right amongst the mirth.

Cas really was coping with his newfound humanity really very well, and Dean was so proud of him. But there were still things that thoroughly overwhelmed him, and sometimes out of nowhere, he became so frustrated with himself that Dean panicked he would find him curled in a ball and rocking with glazed eyes unless he did something about it. It had even played out like that a couple of times, with Dean sliding down on the floor beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and muttering into his hair until whatever rage and frustration had taken Cas over had finally passed.

This looked like the warning signs of one of those times.

Dean gave a sharp nod, turning each item over again. "Well. Is it something you wanna smell like? Or...something you've already smelt that you wanna find? Or—"

"I used to smell like...like creation, Dean. Like the sky and the earth and the universe itself,"

Dean shifted, holding back on the sigh that wanted to accompany his drooping shoulders. It wasn't often that Cas mentioned things he missed about being an angel but every time he did Dean felt so utterly helpless. Because this was one of the rare things he really couldn't do to help Cas with, and it left him so angry at himself, despite knowing there was absolutely nothing he could change about that at all.

"These...products. The smell...there is nothing even similar. Nothing even relatively close. Nothing at all,"

"Well," Dean reasoned, clutching at straws, because he had to do something to take away that lost look on Cas' face. And what smelt so great about _creation_ , anyway, he thought to himself as he tried to remember if he'd ever thought to smell Cas when he was still an angel. The very thought was ludicrous, and Dean found himself biting back a laugh that might otherwise be misinterpreted. "How 'bout we find you a new scent altogether, huh? Something that's just, I don't know, you?"

"How am I supposed to know what that is?" Cas asked, the desperation in his voice making Dean almost drop everything he was holding to wrap his arms around Cas in a hug. He settled for a quick squeeze around his waist and let his hand linger there on his back as he slid it away, attempting to offer Cas some kind of comfort.

"How 'bout I pick something I think suits you?" Dean tried, clearly flailing for an answer. Apparently, it was a good one though, because the scowl on Cas' face that Dean was carefully monitoring in profile softened a bit, and Cas turned very slightly into him, looking somehow hopeful, and shy.

"You would do that?"

"'Course. Gimme a sec,"

Unknowingly under both Cas and Sam's gaze, Dean opened each of the bottles he was holding in turn again, pulling faces of disapproval at half of them and humming at others that he wasn't too sure of. Nothing seemed quite right though, nothing said instantly to him Cas; Dean wondered for a moment if that was a problem, that there really wasn't anything that fit him, and then berated himself. Since when had he spent so long choosing things like shower gel, deodorant and scent anyway? Who was he, Sam?

With a determined huff, Dean shoved everything back on the shelve in one go, ignoring Sam's disapproving comment about not putting things back in the correct places, then made his way up the aisle, flicking back the lid on many and dismissing all but two. He smelt them both again, wrinkling his nose up in consideration then pushed one of the choices back on the shelf and held the final open out to Cas, watching him expectantly.

Cas took a hesitant sniff, and then another, his eyes raising to Dean in surprise. "You think... you think I smell like that?"

Dean shrugged, because it wasn't something he could easily explain. "Sure. Think it'd suit you, anyway. But only if you want,"

Cas gently took the bottle from Dean's fingers and smelt again, his mouth curving up right at the edges in a small, almost secret smile. "I like it,"

"You do?" Sam asked, sounding nothing but incredulous.

"Yes," the decisiveness in Cas' voice, coupled with the way he clicked the bottle cap back into place, seemed to snap them all into action. Sam grabbed the cart, and Dean slung an arm around Cas' shoulders, steering him along the aisle and finding him other products that were to Cas' liking using exactly the same method.

The shopping cart now full, Dean realized that while they were in this aisle he might as well grab a few toiletries for himself. But before he could reach out for them Cas was wordlessly depositing Dean's own personal favorites into the cart. Cas raised his eyes from where they had been staring almost through the things he'd just put down and then up at Dean, with a shyness there that made Dean have to fight back the grin threatening to erupt on his face.

"Uh... how'd you know those are what I wanted?"

"I used them. When I first... when I first became human. You gave me your toiletries bag and told me to 'help myself'. I recognized them. I think they suit you too,"

Dean felt his cheeks flare but only gave a smile in reply, leaning in a little closer to Cas to stage whisper, "Bet Sam's got half of these aisles back at the bunker. Volume this, glossy that,"

"I heard that," Sam complained, depositing his own things into the cart Dean now stood against with his hands wrapped around the frame.

"You were meant to,"

For a moment, Cas stared perplexedly between them both then smiled again, shaking his head.

"So. Anything else you want, Cas?" Dean said, his eyes down on the way Cas idly curled his fingers around the edge of the cart. "I got... I got the cereal you like, the fabric softener you practically inhaled last time we were here, and I thought maybe we could make enchiladas again tonight since you liked 'em so much last time, so I got all the stuff for that too,"

Cas looked down at the ingredients in the cart and back up again, smiling as though thoroughly delighted.

"I cannot think of anything else that I need. Thank you,"

Dean cleared his throat, raised his eyebrow, and stared at Cas, not shifting. Because he knew that tone. It was the tone that said yes there's something I'd like but I'm not going to tell you what it is because you already do too much. And there was never going to be too much that he did for Cas, not ever. So he waited, stared back patiently until Cas' own cheeks took on a little pink.

"I thought..."

"Go on," Dean encouraged after a pause that felt too long.

"I thought... perhaps it would be nice to have some of that bread we had."

"The fresh stuff with all the seeds?" Dean asked, helpless but to smile at the shyness in Cas' voice. How could asking for a loaf of bread make him shy, of all things?

"Yes,"

"Well," Dean said, pushing the cart forward and gesturing for them to leave, "That was actually from a bakery we pass on the way home. So if we're done here we can go see if they've got any,"

One final glance between Sam and Cas to check there was nothing else they wanted, and Dean led them over to the checkouts.

* * *

"Here. Smell,"

Dean held out the loaf of bread he'd just been handed over the counter and smiled as Cas took a deep appreciative sniff, and let out an even more appreciative hum.

"This smells perfect,"

"Yeah, it does. Maybe we can have some with that honey you and Sam picked up last week when we get back,"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps this," Cas said, reaching out and scooping up some of the free pie sample that was on the counter and holding it just in front of Dean's mouth, waiting.

Dean smiled, ducked his head whilst keeping eye contact and willingly swept it up off the small plastic fork deftly held between Cas' fingers, raising his hand to wipe the crumbs away from his mouth and giving a small hum of approval.

"'Kay. Your idea's better,"

Look very pleased with himself, Cas turned back to the counter and quietly added pie to their order, then turned back to Dean as though to check it was okay before asking for a couple more things. As they waited for their purchases to be bagged up, Dean watched as Cas inhaled deeply and smiled to himself.

"This bakery smells delicious,"

"Got that right," Dean couldn't help but agreeing, breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread, vanilla, cinnamon, and all sorts of other incredible smells that made his mouth begin to water. "How 'bout we head back now, have a slice of this, and I'll cook us those enchiladas for a late dinner?"

Cas reached out for one of the bags as Dean paid and turned towards him, nodding. "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Dean,"

* * *

"Just gonna head in there a second,"

Sam looked in the direction Dean was tipping his head, back at Dean, then back at the shop sign again as though he didn't understand.

"There?" he said, pointing and emphasising the word as though he was in utter doubt about what he was hearing.

"Yeah. You coming with, or...?"

Sam looked back at the herbal store and back at Dean, thoroughly bewildered. "What're we running out of? Thought I got everything last week when I stocked up?"

"Nothing," Dean said, pushing the door open and holding it open for Sam to follow him in.

"Then—"

"Wanna see if I can get anything for Cas,"

A look of understanding took over Sam's face then and he nodded, pressing his lips together in a thin line. "Still not sleeping great, huh?"

"Nope. I mean he's getting some sometimes, but. He's waking up so often and then not getting back to sleep, and it's...the nightmares, Sam. He- he won't tell me, but... they're bad. Real bad,"

Sam sighed full bodily and began looking over the shelves half-heartedly, stroking his hand along one then letting it fall to his side. "Well. You know they say lavender works for—"

"I don't want him smelling like someone's grandma," Dean protested, making Sam laugh quietly to himself.

"Lavender doesn't have to mean grandma. If we had a bathtub you could...I don't know, get him some essential oil, or—"

"Can I help you with anything?"

Sam and Dean turned as one to the shop assistant appearing out of nowhere by their side, both jumping a little at his sudden presence.

"Yeah. Yeah, uh..." Dean began, cuffing the back of his neck. "Looking for something that'll help with sleeping. That isn't lavender,"

The shop assistant smiled and nodded. "You'd be surprised about the number of people who actually do like lavender these days. Lavender's actually been found to increase penile blood flow—"

Dean took a far too quick inhale of breath and made himself cough, and Sam snorted a little hysterically, with the shop assistant carrying on speaking almost as though he hadn't heard them.

"... with stimulation. However, some do still perceive it as an old person's scent. It is all down to personal preference, after all,"

Once he'd got a hold on the laughter that threatened to erupt Dean shrugged, turning to look at Sam, eyes still half shining and full of mirth. "I mean. I guess Cas'd not care either way if it helped, right? I mean. I don't wanna presume...Maybe I shoulda asked him first,"

The shop assistant moved to their left and reached out for a few bottles, stepping closer to Dean. "If he doesn't care either way, maybe you can pick something that you don't mind the smell of either, so it doesn't interfere with your sleep as well. Not everyone responds the same to these scents after all,"

Dean's eyes widened a little at the insinuation and then narrowed as Sam clearing his throat in amusement less than discreetly behind him.

"Uh..." Dean began, but the shop assistant was already unstoppering a bottle and holding it out for Dean to smell.

"And I apologize if you think I was insinuating that you needed the lavender to help with—"

"Let's have a try of those other smells, huh?" Dean cut him off instantly, feeling Sam vibrating with the urge to laugh still.

"This one is sandalwood," the shop assistant began, peering disapprovingly around at Sam long enough to make him hang his head remorsefully and then turning back and waiting for Dean's reaction. Dean hummed in approval and waited for the others, settling on both the sandalwood and the bergamot.

"Now, would you prefer incense, candles, pillow sprays? The oil themselves?"

Dean opened his mouth and then closed it again straight away, unsure of what would be best. The shop assistant nodded in understanding.

"I would suggest the oil in a bath personally, but I overheard you saying you don't have a tub?"

Dean smiled at the tone in the shop assistant's voice as though having no bathtub was beyond his imagination and something to be greatly pitied.

"Yeah, we got, uh... space issues at our place,"

The shop assistant sighed in sad understanding and nodded. "In that case, I would suggest either the candles or the incense. Some find the pillow sprays a little overwhelming or even irritant to the skin. I would probably recommend the candles; lighting your bedroom by candlelight might actually help him sleep—both of you, in fact,"

Sam snickered again; Dean flinched but said nothing.

"Right. In that case I'll take- I'll take a couple candles of each. And something to stand 'em on,"

The shop assistant nodded and spun away, grabbing up some candles along with four round glass candle holders, putting them on the counter cluttered up with small gift bags and charms and all sorts of other things Dean couldn't really identify.

"How about tea?"

Dean spread his hands wide and shook his head. "He's a coffee drinker. Like...inhales the stuff. Doubt I'll convince him to switch for tea,"

The shop assistant smiled warmly and turned away again, coming back to them with a small, crinkly package and holding it out for Dean to inspect suspiciously.

"Get him to drink a cup of this before sleep. Camomile is most people's go-to for sleep remedies but valerian has some actual sedative properties. And lemon-balm is fantastic too; this tea has a mixture of all three and he should probably only try one cup per day because of their combined effects. I swear by it; haven't had a bad night's sleep since I brewed some of the stuff up for myself,"

Dean ran a finger over the front of the package in his hand and nodded. "Worth a try I guess,"

"You can also add honey for flavor, that will enhance the taste and has many healing properties itself,"

Dean's face twisted into a grin. "Oh, he'll love that. Any excuse for honey,"

"He has a sweet tooth?" The shop assistant smiled, returning to the counter and having Dean and Sam follow him over.

"God, yeah, anything sweet and he—he can't help himself. He really likes honey though. Hey, what're those?"

The shop assistant turned in the direction of Dean's gaze and walked back over to a shelf.

"These?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, it's called a stacking teapot and cup. You put the tea in here, obviously," he said, pulling the lid off the small teapot and tipping it in Dean's direction, "and when it's brewed you pour it in here."

Dean looked thoughtfully at the cup in his hand, stepped closer to the shelf and pointed at one with an intricate garden motif along with the odd bee on its side.

"That one. He'll get a kick out of that one, whaddya reckon, Sammy?"

Dean turned to Sam beaming at his own idea and caught the tail end of Sam attempting to hold in his laughter yet again. With a glare Dean turned away and followed the shopkeeper over to the counter with Sam trailing behind, still grinning to himself.

Dean and Sam watched as the shop assistant carefully wrapped up the teapot, candles, holders and tea in simple printed paper then slid everything into a sturdy-looking paper bag. He reached under the counter for a second and stood back up with another package, adding that into the bag as well.

"What's that?" Dean said, peering in the bag.

"Free sample for buying so much at once. Thank you," the shop assistant smiled, handing over the bag as Dean paid.

"What is it?"

"Another candle, one that might also help with sleep but just smells great anyway. This one is vanilla and is handmade by yours truly; full of all the good stuff,"

"Oh yeah?" Sam piped up, finally able to make conversation now that he'd got his amusement under control. "And what does that help with?"

"Vanilla is known to have multiple properties. Calming, eases breathing, stress, and anxiety." The shop assistant paused then and looked over at Dean as though uncertain if he should continue. With an eventual shrug he added, "It is also known for being a natural aphrodisiac and libido enhancer. Not that I'm suggesting you need help with either of those things,"

Sam's laughter rang out around the small shop as Dean mumbled his thanks and turned away, shoving Sam bodily out of the door while he continued to cackle.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

“C’mon, Cas. Gotta be something. If you could eat anything—anything at all…”

Cas groaned a little almost into himself, dropping his head down on his arm folded on the table and answered, muffled and forlorn.

“There is nothing,”

“I’ll cook you anything you want,” Dean offered, almost pleading with him.

Cas had been sick for the past few days, a heavy cold that had left furious bruises beneath his eyes, a greyness to his cheeks and an overall sense of listlessness that left Dean spending much of those days worrying hard at his own lip as he kept up a careful watch over Cas.

“No.”

“Pancakes. How ‘bout pancakes, huh? You like pancakes,” Dean said, sliding down into the seat beside Cas and resting his palm on the middle of his back. He took a moment to get the reassurance that there was no heat radiating back at him like it had been doing the past few days, but the weary way Cas raised his head to look up at him just made Dean’s heart jolt in worry even without that heat, and his palm slide slowly down and off of him dejectedly.

“It would be a waste, Dean. I cannot currently taste anything, and I have little to no appetite.”

“But you gotta eat, Cas. How’re you s’posed to feel better if you don’t keep your strength up, huh?”

“Dean—”

“You’re not nauseous, are you?” Dean said, unable to keep the increasing concern from his voice as he shuffled even closer, draping a hand across Cas’ back and pulling gently so that Cas would lean into him. Cas shifted with a soft grunt, head ending up pressed awkwardly against Dean’s shoulder.

“No. I am not nauseous. Simply very, very tired.”

“Maybe you should go back to bed for a bit then, huh?” Dean sighed, admitting defeat, absently stroking circles into Cas’ back that had him humming in appreciation.

“I think that may be for the best,”

Scraping his chair back and standing, Dean held out his hands for Cas to cling on to as he dragged himself to his feet, sighing as Cas all but fell forward and landed head first in the crook of his neck with soft _oofing_ sound and grabbing lethargically around Dean’s waist for support.

“That’s it. I’m definitely taking you back to bed,”

“I don’t need—”

But Dean cut off Cas’ complaint with a loud shushing sound and half-towed, half-carried Cas to his room. The relief on Cas’ face to find himself back in bed had Dean fluctuating between grinning and grimacing, but Dean carefully pulled up one of Cas’ bedsocks that had slipped on the walk between the kitchen and the bedroom, drew the covers up to just under his chin, patting them down to make sure there were no draughts that could get in, then pressed his hand to Cas’ forehead to reassure himself there was no renewed fever.

“So here’s what I’m gonna do,” Dean said with renewed determination as he perched on the edge of the bed, resting his hand lightly on Cas’ stomach as though willing it to restore Cas’ appetite. “I’m gonna let you rest, and while you’re sleeping I’m gonna make my version of my mom’s tomato and rice soup, okay? Always worked for Sam as a kid, so…”

“I am not a _kid_ , Dean,”

Dean grinned at the petulance in Cas’ tone and found himself thankful that Cas’ eyes were firmly closed, knowing that finding him amusing would likely have Cas huffing all over again and turning his back to him. “Yeah, and I didn’t say you were. Fact is, pretty sure all three of us’d appreciate some soup. Kinda the weather for it,”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas managed in a half-sigh as he drifted back off to sleep. Dean waited a little longer to watch, to make sure Cas’ breathing was even enough for his liking as he slept then dragged himself to his feet again and silently left the room, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him.

* * *

“Not that I’m happy that you’re sick or anything, Cas, but… been forever since Dean made this. So… thank you, I guess,”

Cas gave Sam a tired smile and hid a yawn behind his hand for a moment then sat back as Dean bent over him a little holding a spoon. He shielded it from underneath to make sure none of the soup dripped on Cas and held it out, gesturing for him to taste. Cas leaned forward and opened his mouth obediently, accepting the offered spoonful and swallowing slowly.

Dean also swallowed slowly, although for him it was more in anticipation.

“That tastes delicious, Dean,” Cas told him, eyes wide with surprise as though he was really expecting it to taste awful—or that he’d not be able to taste the soup at all.

“Told you. Magic,” Dean replied, grinning triumphantly as Cas licked his lips as though tasting for more.

“How come I don’t get a sample?” Sam asked but with no real bite to it as he stood and grabbed bowls from the cupboard, cutlery from the draw, and glasses from the draining board, setting them up on the table.

“You’re not sick,” Dean told him firmly with a slap to Sam’s hand as he reached out to try and grab a spoonful from the pan still on the stove for himself.

“Favouritism,” Sam mumbled but grinned, turning back around and sitting down opposite Cas.

“Quit your whining, Sammy, and make yourself useful,” Dean grumbled, coming back to the table with the pot in his hands and sliding it down on the tablemat Sam had just shifted to the middle of the table.

Carefully so as not to spill or splash any, Dean first served up a bowlful for Cas with a warning about the temperature, then Sam, and then himself, pausing with a spoon balanced between his fingers as he watched and waited for Cas to try some for himself. Dean tracked the movement, from spoon being scraped up from the table, to dipping into the soup, to raising just in front of Cas’ mouth and staying there as Cas blew on it a little to cool it off, then tilted backward as Cas took a sip.

A second passed, and then another, as Dean held his breath waiting to see if Cas would approve. Cas rewarded him with a grateful smile and with less hesitance this time as though he knew it was not going to be too hot, and took a second sip. In fact, he seemed to suddenly be either famished, or really be enjoying the soup, or perhaps both, because within minutes, before Dean had even got halfway through his own, Cas was scraping the bowl clean.

“You like that, Cas?” Dean said, feeling all kinds of pleased.

“Very much,” Cas nodded, his eyes drifting back to the pan between them and licking his lips.

Wordlessly Dean held out his hand, indicating for Cas’ bowl. He spooned out more soup into it and carefully set it down in front of him again, waiting for another moment to make sure he really was planning on eating it before he started on his own once more.

When Cas was pushing back his bowl for a second time and leaning back in his chair sighing in satisfaction, Dean rewarded him with a smile full of praise.

“That was delicious, thank you, Dean,”

“Seconded,” Sam said, scraping up the last of his own second bowl and splitting the remainder in the pan between himself and Dean after Cas shook his head to say he didn’t want any more.

“Welcome,”

“How’re you feeling now?” Sam turned to Cas, seeing for himself that he was already looking at least a little better thanks to the glow the soup had put to his cheeks.

“Better. Still tired, but definitely better. I think that perhaps by tomorrow… or the following day, I might be back to ‘normal’,”

“So we’ll go out. Celebrate,” Dean said with a determined glint in his eye as he stood and cleared away their empty bowls.

“Celebrate?” Cas asked, turning curiously to watch Dean as he grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge and came back to pour all three of them a glass.

“Yeah,”

“What will we be celebrating?” Cas asked, sounding thoroughly confused.

“You getting better. Duh,” Dean told him with a quick clasp of his shoulder before turning back and starting to fill the sink.

“I’ll get those, you did everything else,” Sam said immediately, already standing and pushing his sleeves up past his elbows and checking the temperature of the water as he filled the sink up.

“There is no need to celebrate—”

“We’re celebrating,” Dean cut Cas off, fixing him with a look that dared him to argue back. Cas opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to find the words, instead giving Dean a quiet smile, and dropping his gaze back down to the table before draining his glass of juice almost in one.

“Thirsty?” Dean said, instantly on his feet again and ignoring Cas’ protests, filling his glass for a second time.

“I—thank you, Dean. You have taken very good care of me these past few days. I—”

“Only thing you need to be doing now is thinking where you wanna eat in a couple days,” Dean told him, gripping his shoulder again and smiling as though to tell him whatever he was about to say was unnecessary.

“Sushi. Tell him _sushi_ ,” Sam called over his shoulder as he rinsed off the dishes.

“You hate sushi,” Cas said to Dean, eyeing him curiously as though he couldn’t understand Sam’s reason for suggesting it.

“I can’t hate something I’ve only tried once. If you said you wanted sushi we’d go for sushi,” Dean shrugged, turning his now-pained expression over to Sam where he’d managed to drop a plate into the sink and had splashed himself with water and soap suds.

“I will think about it,” Cas told him, the soft smile on his face showing no sign of disappearing any time soon.

“Whenever you’re ready, Cas. Whatever you want,”

* * *

Dean eyed the glass slid in front of him doubtfully then skeptically raised an eyebrow back over at Cas for an explanation.

“Please tell me I’m not gonna regret letting you order when my back’s turned,”

Cas gave him a small, almost secret smile and nodded his thanks to the waitress before wrapping his fingers around his own identical glass, looking over at Dean expectantly.

“You said that since we are stuck in a motel for the night we might as well be drinking something that isn’t beer,” Cas reasoned, picking up and swirling the glass with the liquid inside sticky enough to leave a light residue as it was spun.

“What is this, anyway?” Dean said, picking up his own glass and inspecting it from all sides, including underneath.

“It is an apple pie cocktail,” Cas told him with glee. “Combining two of your favorite things. Alcohol and—”

“Pie,” Dean finished for him, chuckling and shaking his head, “I get it. Thanks, I think?”

“Try it,” Cas said, looking back at him imploringly, as though he thought Dean might actually refuse.

Dean eyed the glass distrustfully once more then shrugged. “Here goes nothing,”

Cas watched as though mesmerized as Dean lifted his glass again, gave the drink another suspicious sniff and then took a very delicate sip. Dean’s eyes raised in surprise to catch Cas’ staring ones, though Cas hadn’t made an attempt to try his at all, which hardly seemed fair.

“How is it?”

“Try it,” Dean insisted, pushing on Cas’ glass. “It’s actually pretty good,”

Cas leaned back in his chair looking quite pleased with himself and took a much less hesitant sip of the cocktail than Dean’s, his smile splitting wider as the flavor burst in his mouth. “It _is_ ,”

Dean took a longer sip this time and nodded again. “I mean. I couldn’t drink it all night, but… it’s good. Good choice,”

Cas bowed his head, smiling to himself and taking another gulp.

“So. You okay with just hanging out here for a bit?” Dean asked, drumming his fingers on the table and briefly glancing out of the window to the street outside, thinking idly about how quickly it had gotten dark.

Immediately Cas frowned, looking back at him guardedly and shuffling back a little in his seat. “Do you have somewhere else that you need to be, Dean?”

Surprised, Dean spluttered around his drink and shook his head. “What? No, what? Where’d that come from?”

Cas shifted awkwardly and dropped his gaze down to the glass he now toyed with instead of drank from. “It sounded as though you wanted me to wait here whilst you went… somewhere else,”

“What?” Dean laughed, his eyes crinkling up in amusement. “Uh, no, I _meant_ , are you okay with hanging out here a while with _me_.”

“Oh,” Cas said, his shoulders dropping their tension immediately and the caution on his face disappearing as quick as it had come.

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean leaned forward, still grinning. “You gotta get better at not misinterpreting everything we say.”

Cas carefully avoided Dean’s eyes again, making Dean clear his throat to get his attention.

“I assumed…” Cas began, making Dean’s eyebrows raise a little higher at the tone in his voice that had him lean a little further forward on the table when Cas came to an uncertain stop.

“Out with it,”

Cas huffed to himself, suddenly finding looking anywhere in the booth but at Dean completely fascinating. “I saw your… interaction with the… with the woman at the bar on the way back from the bathroom,”

Dean snorted, sitting back abruptly and taking another sip of his drink with an almost indignant shake of his head. “Cas. I’m a flirty guy, alright? I don’t even know I’m doing it half the time. Don’t mean everything’s gotta turn into a _thing_. ‘Sides. Came here with _you_ , didn’t I?”

Cas carefully looked at him then, fingers gripping a little tighter around his glass.

“I assumed—”

“You assumed _wrong_ , buddy. We came here together, okay? Not gonna ditch you the second someone gives me the eye. It didn’t mean anything, and trust me, I’m _more_ than happy sat here with you than doing… well, anything else right now to be honest.”

Where Cas’ shoulders had dropped with the release of tension a few moments earlier, now they were almost squaring out in pride.

“As am I. Thank you, Dean,”

“Don’t need to thank me,” Dean said, waving the glass and draining it, tilting his chin at Cas’ telling him to do the same. “And nice as this was, I’m choosing the next one. ‘K?”

Cas smiled then, tipping back his own glass and savoring the last of the apple taste on his tongue for a moment before nudging the drinks menu towards Dean.

Dean snorted, picking the menu up and beginning to read, sometimes grimacing and sometimes humming in consideration as he read the options.

“You trust me?”

“Of course, Dean,”

“Even if this little experiment in cocktails ‘s gonna give you a brutal introduction to the joy that isn’t a hangover?”

Cas smiled then, tracing his finger around the edge of the glass and bringing it up to his lips to see if any flavor remained. “This would not be my first hangover, neither as human nor angel,”

Dean tracked Cas’ movements then cleared his throat.

“That just sounds like you’re giving me free reign to do whatever I want here, Cas. Kinda dangerous territory you’re putting yourself in,” Dean winked, unable to stop himself returning Cas’ answering grin.

“We have a diner next door to our motel,” Cas pointed out, “Should we need sustenance in the morning…”

Dean slammed his hand down on the table with a loud laugh. “I’m corrupting you in about every damn way, aren’t I? Getting you drunk, teaching you that the only good hangover cure is grease, grease and more grease—”

Cas’ lips twitched as he tried to control another smile. “You may corrupt me in any way you see fit, Dean,”

Dean’s laugh this time was a full, delight-filled belly laugh, and as he stood to go to the bar he leaned over, gripping his hand around Cas’ shoulder. “Cas, man, you gotta… you gotta be careful ‘bout what you’re _offering_ here,”

Cas was helpless but to smile back at him and watch as Dean headed over to the bar. He watched Dean ordering, watched as yet another woman sidled up to him and leaned up against him in a way that was anything but subtle, and watched yet again as Dean’s shoulders shuddered as though he was laughing before he turned and gestured in Cas’ direction, smiling and shaking his head.

Cas saw the woman look between them and her face drop in disappointment, before she turned without another word and walked away again, immediately leaning up against another guy to Dean’s left. Dean caught Cas staring at him and winked, then turned back again to the bartender and finishing his order.

* * *

Over the next couple of hours they tried another three cocktails and eventually switched to beer. The alcohol relaxed them both which was what was needed after a difficult hunt, and in between laughing for what sometimes felt like absolutely no particular reason they talked about Sam back in the motel room nursing a headache, a lead Cas had found in the news that morning that they would think about following up, and joked about the number of times each of them had been hit on since arriving.

“Perhaps it is some sort of enchantment on this bar,” Cas mused, looking at the cocktail menu again as though he was considering another.

Dean laughed, nodding, watching Cas as he read. “Yeah. Nothing to do with us— _you_ at _all_ , Cas. Gotta be a spell or something. _Right_ ,”

Cas looked both confused by and indignant at Dean’s remark, and frowned at him suspiciously. “I don’t—”

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean said, shifting in his seat and looking back at him pointedly. “You been hit on by three girls and two guys already tonight. Every time I turn my back there’s someone draping themselves over the booth like they’re gonna eat you or something,”

Dean was helpless but to grin at Cas’ blush as his eyes rapidly darted away from Dean’s.

“I don’t know what you are implying,”

“I’m _implying_ , Cas,” Dean said, leaning in as though sharing a conspiracy with him, “people think you’re _hot_. Not the first time people’ve noticed either. Look at how many people’ve commented over the years when we’ve been on cases, huh? ‘S not a fluke happening here. Maybe it’s just that kinda night and the lighting’s right, and… you know,”

“I think I need the bathroom,” Cas muttered, rising immediately and leaving Dean to stare after him chuckling. Cas might have had a point though, Dean thought to himself for a moment, people did seem overly _interested_ in them both tonight. It happened like that sometimes, and the fact that Cas seemed both flustered and bewildered by it just had Dean grinning about it even more—although it was getting a bit too frequent the way people’s eyes were constantly _on_ Cas, he thought then, his grin dropping a touch.

Dean thought on that for a few minutes as he waited for Cas to come back, then glanced up to see him making his way back in what seemed like a hurry. Instantly tensing up at the expression on Cas’ face, Dean’s fight and flight instincts kicked in, having him half-ready to pounce because of how very uncomfortable and distressed Cas appeared to be.

A moment later Dean caught on to the reason for his discomfort; a guy was to Cas’ left, all but pawing at him, looking very much as though he was trying to keep up with the quick pace Cas was walking in, with a look on his face that shouted _interested_ , and more annoyingly, _not taking no for an answer_.

Dean relaxed a touch, thankful there was no sudden danger, and started laughing to himself for overacting, then again at the further fuel for his fire to tease Cas with. A cold, angry feeling pressed into his gut though, and Dean prepared himself to be getting up in the guy’s face if he wouldn’t back off once Cas sat back down.

Painting on a neutral face despite that, Dean grinned up at Cas idiotically as he slid back into the booth beside rather than in front of him, and the guy who’d been following him came to an abrupt shuddering halt as he saw Dean sitting there waiting. Dean waved, beaming up at him perhaps a touch wider than was absolutely necessary and quietly seething under his breath about ripping limbs from torsos.

“As I was telling you,” Cas said snippily, leaning into Dean’s side a little, “I came here with someone. We are together,”

Dean snorted hard at that, eyes wide and looking between Cas and the crestfallen looking guy in surprise and then shrugged, perhaps puffing his chest out a little and leaning his arm casually across the top of the seat behind Cas at the same time.

“What he said,” Dean said easily, smiling back up at the guy and watching as he dejectedly turned away from the booth, finally allowing himself to relax now that the guy was leaving them alone again.

“Not interested, Cas?” Dean teased after a moment, leaning into him a little as he drained his beer.

“No,” Cas replied adamantly, doing the same, though much quicker, still with an indignant, disgruntled look on his face that Dean couldn’t help find adorable.

“You know,” Dean said, as though the thought was just occurring to him, the cold feeling in his gut intensifying a touch. “I know I said about us coming here together and all, but if… if you wanted to go off—”

Cas sat back hard in the seat making the booth creak as he stared back at Dean with wide eyes. “I would _never—_ ”

“Just saying,” Dean said, attempting to be placating but also feeling thoroughly relieved. He had a fleeting moment of wondering how long he’d spend staring at the ceiling back at the motel if he was waiting for Cas to return from going off somewhere with someone, and found himself not liking that thought at all. They were on a case, anyway; it wasn’t exactly the time or place for Cas to be disappearing off to do stuff like _that_ , he reasoned to himself.

“The only thing I would _like_ you to be _just saying_ , Dean, is that you would be willing to have one final drink with me,”

Dean laughed all over again, and nodded as he pushed against Cas’ leg with his own to get him to move. “What’ll it be?”

“I want to try this one,” Cas said as he stood up, pointing at the menu then sliding back into Dean’s side of the booth. Dean stared at him for a moment but then shrugged.

“Sheridans?” Dean said, looking down at the menu where Cas seemed to be pointing then back up at Cas to make sure. “After god knows what was in what we’ve already drank, and the beer… you sure, Cas? Don’t wanna make you sick,”

“I am sure,” Cas nodded firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Dean raised his own arms in a _whatever_ gesture. “Just looking out. One Sheridans coming up,”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas beamed at him, and Dean noticed the slight pinkness to his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes that said that the alcohol was already well and truly having an effect on him.

“Yeah, whatever, Casanova. See if you can manage not to draw attention to yourself in the five seconds I’m gone, huh?”

“I came here with you, Dean. My only intention is to continue to enjoy my evening with you,”

Dean grinned back at that and leaned over to ruffle Cas’ hair, turning and heading for the bar once again.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean, it is too difficult,”

The defeat and dejectedness in Cas’ voice winded Dean, but it was the way Cas crumpled into his extended arms and awkwardly clinged on to him as though Dean was the only thing keeping him grounded that really tore him apart.

“I can’t do it,” Cas whispered again with a tremble throughout his entire body that had Dean’s heart give a hard jolt of panic on feeling. Dean cradled the back of Cas’ head as he buried himself into the crook of his neck, Cas’ breath hiccuping and hot against his skin, and soon followed by a dampness that announced the arrival of Cas’ tears.

Dean gripped him that little bit tighter, whispering soothing nothings to him that did little to calm Cas down.

The _it_ that had Cas so heartbroken was a steady accumulation of bad things over what felt like to all three of them a very bad week all round. A hunt that had been difficult and resulted in Cas dislocating his shoulder, leaving Dean almost in tears from the agonised moan Cas had let out as he’d clicked it back into place for him. The long drive back to the bunker which seemed to take twice as long because they encountered unexpected roadworks, meaning no time to rest to allow Cas’ shoulder to recover by keeping still.

An idle sock left in a wash had discoloured Cas’ favourite shirt. His tablet took on a virus and had to be wiped clear of everything on it and restored back to factory settings. He slipped in the shower jarring his shoulder and hitting his knee and elbow hard, couldn’t shave properly so his stubble grew longer and for some reason irritating, and Dean had found him in his current state of distress because he was having trouble fastening his jeans up one-handed with his shoulder still painful from that fall.

Coupled with what had to be four consecutive nights of nightmares that even with Dean curled around him had done little to help, and Cas was heartbreakingly distraught.

“You’re doing great, Cas,” Dean assured him, turning his head slightly to nuzzle into the back of Cas’.

“I am useless,”

“You are anything but useless,” Dean disagreed, gently stepping back from Cas and cupping his face, holding his gaze.

“I _feel_ useless,” Cas grumbled; Dean sighed hard but reached out with both of his thumbs to wipe away the tears still spilling on to Cas’ cheeks.

“Well you’re not, okay?”

More incoherent mumbling followed and the trembling of Cas’ lip had Dean pulling him in again immediately for another hug, mindful of the awkward way Cas held his shoulder. He and Sam had become so used to this kind of injury over the years that somehow they had both learned to work through the pain of it, but looking at Cas now had Dean feeling a wave of guilt about not having taken him immediately to an urgent care.

“C’mon. We’re gonna get that shoulder looked at,” he whispered; Cas tightened his grip on him, adamantly shaking his head against Dean’s.

“I do not need—”

“Cas. It’s okay. We should get it checked out, make sure it’s—”

“You have had this multiple times and continued to hunt. I will do the same,”

“Cas. You’re in pain. Don’t be stubborn, alright, that’s kinda my job,”

Again, Cas shook his head against him leaving Dean sighing quietly to himself in frustration.

“We’ll go get you seen to, get your arm in a sling, and—”

“You could put it in a sling for me if you believe it necessary. I do not want to go to an urgent care,”

The firm, petulant tone of Cas’ words somehow lost their edge when mumbled into Dean’s skin, but Dean sighed anyway, knowing he was defeated.

“Fine,” he said, giving Cas another light squeeze then pulling away again. “Let’s take a look at it and see what we can do, okay?”

With Cas’ eyes still firmly downward, Dean reached out, wordlessly straightened, zipped and buttoned the jeans that had been giving Cas so much trouble then gently guided him to a hardbacked chair whilst he went in search of supplies.

Dean rounded the corner moments later with his hands full, and came to an abrupt halt; the sadness on Cas’ face as he sat there looking so forlorn, curling into himself as though around the pain, had Dean’s stomach flipping and Dean having to fight against the urge to sweep him up into a hug and hold on to him until that sadness went away.

“Let’s get this off,” Dean said instead as he approached and dumped everything in his arms down on to the table, and turning immediately to tug at the edge of Cas’ shirt. With difficulty he got the shirt up over Cas’ head, wincing at the purple, mottled area around his shoulder, relieved to find that at least it was cool to the touch.

With careful fingers Dean stroked and probed to cover every inch of Cas’ shoulder, making sure everything felt to be exactly where it should be, then scowled at the scab on Cas’ elbow from where he’d hit it as he’d fallen in the shower.

“Don’t you worry about it, Cas,” Dean said in a voice he meant to cheer him up. “You’re still hot. Still gonna turn heads; nothing’s changed there, I can promise you that,”

Cas lifted his head just a fraction and Dean saw the smallest of smiles, rewarding Cas instantly for it with a wider one of his own straight back at him.

Murmuring easy openings for conversation at him to distract Cas from having to struggle back into a t-shirt and settling his arm into a sling, Dean finished with a flourish that had Cas’ lips twitching up in amusement all over again, and it was possibly that that made Dean feel most accomplished.

“Now. How ‘bout we get you some Advil and go and sit in that garden of yours for a bit? Get a bit of sun. Whaddya say?”

Cas gave a small nod and allowed Dean to help him stand, dropping his head down on Dean’s shoulder for a second and mumbling quiet thanks there. Dean smiled, ushering him out with the promise of following him with Advils and drinks in a couple of minutes.

When Dean did just that he found Cas already sat on his bench, his face turned towards the sky and his eyes closed as though he was drinking the sun in through his skin. Dean stood watching him for a few moments, enjoying seeing the peace there on his face though very much disliking the way it contrasted so heavily with the thick black bruises beneath his eyes from lack of sleep.

“Here. Take these,”

Cas’ eyes opened and focused slowly on the pills on Dean’s palm. He shifted and reached out, slotting the pills into his mouth then accepting the glass of water Dean handed him. As he sat, Dean pulled on the bottles nestled in the crook of his arm and handed one of those to Cas as well after taking the glass from him and carefully placing it on the ground to his side.

“So. Maybe what you really need is a really, really good night’s sleep,” Dean suggested, taking a pull of his drink and settling back against the bench by Cas’ side, careful not to jostle about too much for fear of catching Cas’ arm.

“That would be pleasant,”

The wistful tone of Cas’ voice told Dean it was something he believed impossible to achieve. “It is difficult to fall asleep when my arm is like _this_. And once I fall asleep…”

Dean didn’t need him to finish the sentence as far too memories rushed at him of waking Cas from his nightmares.

“Any ideas what we could do to help you sleep? Get you some whale song CDs or some… different tea, or… I don’t know. Something?”

Cas gave him a humorless smile and drank in silence.

“How ‘bout you come sleep in my room tonight?”

Cas stiffened then turned very slightly towards Dean, his face a picture of a thousand questions.

“What?” Dean shrugged, taking another pull of his drink, “You always fall asleep about ten seconds after I come sleep in your bed. Maybe—maybe just falling asleep with someone next to you’ll help you relax and stay asleep?”

“You would do that?” Cas asked him softly as though Dean was offering something almost priceless to him.

“‘Course I would. Told you—whatever you need. Anything to get those bags out from under your eyes,” Dean added, reaching out and gently nudging his palm against Cas’ cheek. “‘Sides. Pretty sure I’ve got the most comfortable bed in the bunker, so…”

For a moment Cas stared back at him without so much as blinking, but then he cleared his throat, and in a small voice answered, “If… if that would be acceptable,”

“It’d be more than _acceptable_  if it helps, Cas. How ‘bout… how ‘bout tonight, we eat a ton of pizza, sink a few beers, watch a movie with Sam then hit the hay early, huh? See if we can’t get you some decent shut-eye for once, see if it helps,”

Cas nodded slowly at Dean’s suggestion, his face seeming to go slack with relief as the idea sank in for him.

* * *

Dean woke first in the morning with his arm still looped around Cas’ waist and Cas’ fingers firmly laced through Dean’s against his own stomach. As far as he could tell, Cas hadn’t stirred once in the night; Dean pressed his forehead against the back of Cas’ head and smiled to himself, allowing himself to feel optimistic about Cas finally getting a decent night of rest.

Dean laid there for a while unaware of either the hour or the duration, content just to listen to the even sound of Cas’ breathing and allow him to wake up in his own time. Sure enough, Cas began his usual waking stretches and absent mumbling to himself that had Dean fighting back a grin at recognizing. Then came the longer stretch, the almost-curl that pressed back against Dean as though to make sure he was still there with him, and the final tightening of his fingers over Dean’s.

“Good morning, Cas,” Dean mumbled into the back of his head, squeezing his fingers back.

“Good morning, Dean,”

“Guess somebody slept well, huh?” Dean asked, smiling into Cas’ hair as Cas wriggled a little against him.

“I believe I did,” Cas agreed, sounding thoroughly relieved.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Dean asked, leaning back a little to give Cas room to roll it and test.

“Stiff. A little painful still, but I think less than yesterday.”

“Good. How ‘bout you stay here a bit longer and I go and get you something to eat so you can take something for your shoulder?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Cas said, slowly rolling over on to his back as Dean pulled away from him to sit up and stretch.

“‘Sfine. Both gotta eat, right? I’ll go and fix us a quick breakfast, be back in a few, okay? Then you take some more painkillers and that’ll help with the swelling. Back to normal in no time, right?”

“Dean,” Cas called by the time Dean was already halfway across the room. Dean pivoted to look back at him, waiting.

“ _Thank_ you,” And the gratitude in Cas’ voice had Dean grinning and turning away from him again, waving a hand to say the thanks were unnecessary.

“Any time,”

* * *

“Get a room,”

Dean and Cas turned as one at the voice of a surly teenager shoving his way past them, intentionally bumping into Dean as he went.

“Get a room yourself,” Dean called in retort, wincing at his typically poor comeback and sighing to himself.

“What was that about?” Cas asked, pulling off the sunglasses he’d been trying on and staring after the boy curiously.

“Beats me,” Dean shrugged, stepping a tiny bit closer to Cas to get out of someone’s way behind him on the aisle.

This service station they had stopped in because Cas was complaining about the headache he’d been getting from the sun getting in his eyes was so small that two people were a queue, and when more than five showed up at once, they either had to wait outside or pass each other things off of the shelves because there was literally no room for them to turn around in.

That was presumably what the comment was about, Dean thought, looking at how he and Cas stood face to face with barely a breath between them, but then how else were they supposed to stand when there was literally nowhere else for them to go?

“I prefer these ones,” Cas said, glancing down at a pair in his right hand and handing the other to Dean, who slotted them back on the rack beside them then took the original pair and popped them carefully on Cas’ face.

“You sure? I mean, they look good, don’t get me wrong,” Dean said in haste at the disappointed look on Cas’ face that Dean saw instantly, sunglasses or no sunglasses. “But you gotta check they feel right.”

“‘Right’?”

“Sure. Here,” Dean said, gently pinching the bridge of his nose. “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“No,”

“What about here?” Dean asked, stroking a finger along Cas’ temple where the frame touched. “We could… wait and get you a proper pair. Some designer ones that fit right, and we know’ll actually do what they’re s’posed to. In fact, we’re gonna do that anyway, ‘cos you need ‘em. But will these be okay for now?”

“These are fine, Dean,” Cas assured him, smiling. “And it is not necessary for me to have _designer_ glasses. I—”

“Tough,” Dean admonished, wagging a finger in front of his face. “‘Cos you’re getting ‘em. Next time we do a proper shop. Before then, even,”

“Okay, Dean,” Cas smiled in easy agreement, reaching to take the glasses off again. Dean beat him to it, softly sliding them off his face and winking, then nodding towards the queue.

“Need anything else?”

“No. I believe I have everything I need currently, thank you,”

“‘Kay,” Dean said easily, reaching for his wallet and pushing some cash into Cas’ hand. “You mind queueing? Now we’re here I really, really need to go,”

Cas followed Dean’s eyes over to the sign for the service station restroom and smiled. “Of course. I still have money from—”

“‘Sfine. Back in a few,”

Dean rushed through his bathroom visit grimacing at the dirtiness of the stall and joined Cas as soon as he could, happy to find him already being served by the time he returned. Dean tapped him on the shoulder to let him know he was there and Cas glanced back at him, smiling in acknowledgment.

“Gonna wait outside. Kinda crowded in here,”

Cas nodded and turned back to the cashier, with Dean stepping out and breathing easier now that there was actually space to do so. Cas followed moments later and immediately put on his new sunglasses, smiling gummily at Dean and looking every part pleased with himself.

“Looking good,” Dean smiled, patting him on the cheek and turning towards the car. “Maybe your head’ll ease up now, huh?”

“I hope so,”

“I was thinking, maybe we could—”

“God, you really can’t keep your hands off each other, can you?”

Again, Dean and Cas turned as one to find their earlier surly teen grinning back at them with a cockily raised eyebrow.

“Look—” Dean started, though not entirely sure where he was going to go with it.

“Hey,” the boy said, raising his hands up and shrugging, “No judgment. Time and a place though, am I right?”

“I—”

Turning his back and waving behind him in dismissal, the boy left them standing there with Dean clenching his jaw and scowling and Cas looking after him, thoroughly perplexed.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, already walking away.

“Why did he tell us to ‘get a room’?”

“Maybe he’s psychic,” Dean called back in suggestion as he rounded his side of the car. “Maybe he knows we’re not gonna make it back before dark and thinks we should stop at a motel,”

Cas came to a slow stop with his hand wrapped around the door handle, frowning at Dean across the roof.

“I do not believe—”

“Get in, Cas,” Dean said firmly, sliding in himself and not waiting for Cas to do the same before firing up the engine.

“Looking good, Cas,” Sam smiled turning round in his seat and giving Cas’ new glasses the once over.

“Thank you,”

“Alright, let’s get going,” Dean said, knowing it sounded pointless since he was the one driving them, but feeling better for the decisiveness in his voice even if he didn’t really feel it.

A few miles out, when the incident in the store had been carefully pushed to one side along with all of the similarly related thoughts, Dean groaned inwardly as he heard Cas clear his throat, knowing to expect a question.

“Sam. Does the phrase ‘get a room ’ have significant meaning?”

Sam, as was to be expected, burst out laughing. “Uh, yeah it does. Why?”

“A… customer at the service station suggested to Dean and I that we should _get a room_.”

Dean kept his eyes very firmly on the road but could feel the heat of Sam’s wicked grin on the side of his face as he turned to look over at him.

“Oh they did, did they?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded; Dean chanced a look back in the rearview mirror and resisted the urge to grin at the serious look on Cas’ face.

“What, uh… what were you guys doing?”

“We were buying sunglasses, you know what we were doing, c’mon, Sam,” Dean frowned, shifting grumpily in his seat.

“Uh huh,”

“I don’t like that tone, Sammy,” Dean complained, tensing up entirely and gripping tighter to the steering wheel with each passing second.

“‘Just buying sunglasses’,” Sam repeated slowly, and carefully, and sounding thoroughly amused.

“Yeah, Sam. _Just buying sunglasses_ ,”

“And being _you_ , I guess,” Sam added, concentrating on the road in front himself, although his mouth was still curled up into a huge grin as he said it.

“‘Being me?’”

“Yeah. Being _you—_ being _both_ of you,”

“‘The hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

Sam turned to him then with a slightly raised eyebrow. “You know,”

“Uh, no idea what you’re going on about actually. Care to elaborate?”

“I would also like for you to elaborate,” Came Cas’ contribution from the back of the car. Dean forced himself not to flinch.

“Alright. Good talk, guys,” Dean said, and with what he knew to be irrational anger rushing through him, moved his hand out to punch the tape into the deck and crank the volume up past speaking volume. Dean felt the curious stare from Cas on him and the mocking one from Sam, gritted his teeth a little harder and put his foot down on the accelerator.

* * *

Dean knew he had withdrawn from Cas a little since the stupid incident over sunglasses a couple of days ago, knew there was no need for it, and berated himself for it every time the thought popped in his head—which was often, daily at least, hourly at most, until he felt overwhelmed with guilt. He knew it was irrational, he knew Cas didn’t invite it, and he also knew he was blowing things way, way out of proportion and overreacting.

The thing was, he didn’t really know what to do about it. But he couldn’t lay there in his room staring up at the ceiling glowering to himself for much longer, not without going more than a little stir crazy.

With that in mind, Dean stood up, wandered along the bunker corridor, grabbed some beer from the fridge, then threw himself down on the sofa where Cas was sitting with his tablet reading. Dean nudged against Cas as he passed over a beer and stretched his own legs out in perfect mirror to Cas’ resting on the small coffee table in front of them with Cas barely stirring at all.

“Reading anything good?” Dean said, leaning in and feeling a flood of relief from the warmth of Cas pressed into his side. Cas, as was to be expected, looked at him curiously and without speaking for a few moments then shrugged, handing him the tablet to look for himself.

“‘Kay. Obviously I recognize it’s Greek, but—”

“The Iliad,” Cas told him softly, smiling and taking a grateful sip of his beer.

“In Greek.”

“In Ancient Greek. As it was written,” Cas amended, turning back to the tablet.

“Bet you were there for this being written, huh?” Dean said, smiling at Cas and feeling in awe at that being a possibility.

“I was around,” Cas said vaguely, reaching out to flick between the pages. “Homer was an intriguing individual,”

“I’ll bet,” Dean muttered to himself, leaning in to peer over the page again but otherwise not interrupting. At least, for as long as he could force himself not to.

“Could you… read some?” Dean asked, biting down on his lip and looking at Cas hopefully.

“Out loud?”

“Yeah,”

“...now?”

“No time like the present,” Dean grinned, his heart giving one hard thud as he waited. Cas stared at him for a little longer this time but eventually shrugged, and began reading.

Dean sighed a little and let his head fall back against the sofa, smiling and closing his eyes, content just to mostly listen.

“‘S a good story. Read it a while ago now, couple a times, actually, but. I liked it,” he interrupted after a few minutes still with his eyes closed.

“Technically it is not a story but a poem,” Cas corrected, smiling as Dean pulled a face at him still with his eyes closed.

“Keep going,” Dean nudged, both with words and by knocking his knee against Cas’.

Cas made a small noise of amusement but started reading aloud again, with Dean humming in approval and wriggling himself even more comfortable. They stayed like that for another half an hour or so, only interrupted by Sam dropping down on to the opposite sofa with a soft _oof_.

“Best thing we ever did was setting this room up like this,” Sam said idly, closing his eyes and stretching out so that his feet dangled over the edge of his sofa’s arm.

“I would add that preventing the apocalypse on multiple occasions may have also had its merits,” Cas added mildly without so much as looking up. Dean snorted in laughter and nudged his head against Cas’ shoulder to show his approval, receiving a small grin back in reward, though Cas’ eyes were still firmly on his tablet.

Sam huffed from across the room, mumbling under his breath.

“Say it for the kids at the back of the room, Sammy,”

“Nothing, nothing,” Sam said, his voice giving away just how hard he was smiling.

“Spill,” Dean said, more firmly this time and frowning as he sat up a little straighter.

Sam turned his head, very deliberately looking between Cas and Dean before grinning. “And you wonder why people always assume _things_ about you two,”

“‘Things’?” Dean repeated as Cas slowly turned off his tablet screen and stared curiously over at Sam. “What things?”

“Things,” Sam repeated, slower this time as though the vocabulary was the actual problem.

“Have we done something wrong?” Cas asked quietly, leaning into Dean a little and sounding worried, which had Dean glaring even harder at Sam.

“No, Cas. We haven’t done anything, wrong or otherwise. Sam’s just being _Sam_ ,”

“Oh he is, is he?” Sam laughed. “What, rational and pointing out the obvious?”

“What obvious?” Dean demanded, feeling his temper surging through him and having to grip his fists in tight balls to control it.

“You know. _You two_ ,”

“Us two _what_?”

“Dean,” Sam said in an exasperated tone, wiping a tired hand down his face before looking over at him again. “You’re… in each other’s space all the time. You… you do everything together, you finish each other’s sentences. You fuss over each other constantly, and you’re always in some way like _that_ ,”

“Like _what_?” Dean voice came out a shout that had Cas tensing beside him and staring over at Dean in concern.

“Like… _touching_.”

“We’re not _touching_ , Sam, god, what are you, five?” Dean said, slamming away the whisper that pointed out he was sat very much touching Cas, sitting next to him pressed hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder.

“If this is inappropriate in company—” Cas began with uncertainty, pulling slightly away from Dean.

“It’s not—I—,” Dean bit out, his hand pressing across Cas as though to hold him in place.

Sam answered only with a laugh and dropped his head back down, closing his eyes with a smug look on his face.

“And you wonder why the entire world thinks you’re a couple, huh? Can’t understand even for a minute why people might presume such things, no?”

“Sam,” Dean warned, boiling over with a mixture of fury and fear, his heart pounding painfully as he dug his fingers into the sofa cushion.

“I mean, seriously Dean—”

“Sam,”

“It’s not even like—”

“Sam,” Dean growled out, leaning forward, his arm bouncing off of Cas and down to his own thigh as he did. “Enough already, okay? We’re not—it’s not—it’s not _like_ that,”

“Yeah, okay, Dean. I’ve got eyes in my head, but sure, whatever,” Sam sighed, the smile dropping from his face a little as he turned his head and opened his eyes a fraction. “You keep up the pretense, act like I wouldn’t support this like, one million percent, and—

“...We aren’t?”

“See?” Dean said, reaching out and slapping Cas on the knee, thankful for the support. “Even Cas is getting pissed off with you now. So cut it out, alright?”

Dean’s temper flared bright, but he wasn’t so angry that he missed the way Sam’s eyes blew wide and his mouth fell open, his gaze on Cas suddenly sorrowful and somehow looking completely mortified.

Dean turned to look at Cas himself and jolted instantly at the thoroughly wounded expression there on his face, the way he looked at Dean so beseechingly as though begging to have misinterpreted what he’d just said.

“We aren’t?” Cas said again, this time much quieter than the first. In Dean’s panic, and rage, and lashing out he had failed to notice the question in Cas’ tone that time, but there sure as hell wasn’t any way of mistaking it now.

“Dean?” Cas whispered, his eyes brightening and his tone bordering on pleading.

“Uh…” Dean stammered out, his heart hammering wildly in his chest, and wilder still as Cas began to pull further back from him.

“I thought. I—” Cas’ mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find his words, lightly shaking his head as he could force no sound out of his mouth.

“Cas—”

Cas cut Dean off then by standing abruptly, clutching his tablet knuckle white against his chest almost like a shield, and turning his disbelieving, heartbroken face between Dean and Sam and back again, as though somewhere in the in between he would find the answers he was so desperately seeking out.

“I apologize,” Cas mumbled, quickly turning on his heel and ignoring Dean’s call for him to come back, leaving both Dean and Sam staring after him and a heavy, uncomfortable silence rushing in to fill Cas’ absence.

“...what?” Dean half-choked out when he found his voice again, turning to Sam as though Sam would actually have an answer for him.

“Oh... shit. _Dean_ ,” Sam said, still wide eyed, running a ragged hand through his hair and shaking his head in utter bewilderment. “You… I’d… _wow_ ,”

“Sam,” Dean pleaded, though he didn’t particularly know what he was pleading for. His eyes kept turning towards the doorway Cas had just left through then back to Sam, as though someone was about to snap their fingers in front of his eyes and a better reality would appear before him.

When no such thing happened Dean allowed himself to sink heavily back against the sofa, hands threading together on his lap and staring back at Sam still waiting for an answer.

“He… he didn’t mean that, right? I mean… he _gets_ what being a couple means… doesn’t he? And we’re not—I mean we’ve not—I mean I...” Dean let his voice trail away, still holding out an impossible hope for this to be a terrible misunderstanding.

“I—” but Sam’s answer trailed away pitifully too, and he could do little but gesture helplessly at him.

An awful feeling of dread pressed Dean further back into the sofa, and he dropped his head back there with a heavy groan.

“I’d… I’d say you’ve got some… stuff to deal with,” was all Sam could tell him when he eventually found his voice again, looking in the same direction as Dean with an expression of utter sympathy.

Dean stared over at the doorway silently pleading for Cas to come back; not that he had a clue what to say to him.

* * *

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“He won’t come out,”

Dean ran his hands through his hair in worried frustration, tugging on it a little before dropping down heavily into a chair opposite Sam, his eyes still feeling as propped wide open as they had been since the minute this nightmare first started.

They’d both stared in silence for a while after Cas had left, both completely lacking any kind of words to say, and without any conscious decision Sam had gravitated towards the library and Dean to Cas’ room.

“Maybe he just needs time?” Sam tried, wincing at his own empty words and looking so thoroughly sorry that Dean had to close his eyes to it. He’d just come from standing outside Cas’ door, having stood knocking repeatedly for what had to be half an hour, all but begging Cas to speak to him. If it wasn’t for the shuffling sounds from the other side of the door and what sounded like, Dean’s heart sank even thinking about it, muffled crying, then he would have believed that Cas wasn’t in the room at all, and had snuck out.

“I just… I—if he’d just let me _talk_ to him,” Dean said, the frustration having him wring his hands together nervously on the table. “But he’s not even answering me,”

“Did you try opening his door?” Sam suggested, looking so very unSam-like in that moment because he looked so very clueless _himself_ about what to say, or do.

“C’mon, Sam. If… if he’s just been… If I’ve just… _humiliated_ him like that… I’d be the last person I’d want to be seeing as well. I can’t just let myself _in_ there like that,”

“But you do normally,” Sam pointed out, sighing a little and forcing Dean to answer with his own irritated grumble.

“Yeah but it’s _different_. It’s when he’s not sleeping, or the nightmares he’s having, or—”

“Maybe—maybe that’s where he’s got confused, though,”

“Sam, c’mon, not now, okay?” Dean bit back, glaring across the table at him. Dean didn’t need the reminder that the situation they’d found themselves in was probably entirely his fault, for being too close, for never mentioning boundaries, for messing things up without even trying yet again.

“Think about it, Dean,” Sam insisted, pressing his hands together and leaning forward. “He… you… you give him… _everything_ he asks for. You wake him when he’s having nightmares, you sleep in the same bed as him half the time—”

“It calms him down having someone there, ‘s all there is to it,” Dean defended, shaking his head adamantly and folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“You’re affectionate with him both here and in public,” Sam pressed on, still frowning as though the picture was coming together before his very eyes as well. “And whether you hate me for pointing it out or not, you _are_ always touching each other. You more than him, actually; you’ve always got your hands on him—”

“You make it sound like I’m constantly sneaking a feel—”

“I’m _not_. I’m _saying_ , you touch him in ways that… well honestly, it’d be easy to misinterpret. By _anyone._ Clearly it _is_ easy to misinterpret; how many people’ve assumed you were a couple in the last few months, Dean, huh? Longer, even. But since he fell… even you can’t deny that you’ve gotten… closer,”

“Yeah but not like _that_ ,” Dean protested, gripping his hands in tight fists. “It’s never been like that. Me and Cas, we’re just—”

“Dean,” Sam said in the patient tone Dean recognised as the prelude to him saying things he absolutely would not enjoy hearing, “You’ve gotta… you’ve gotta see it from his perspective,”

Dean watched as Sam blinked, as though he too was trying to see it from Cas’ perspective, and seeing all kinds of things. Dean glared at the expression on his face, wilfully shaking his head.

“I’m just… I’m just looking _out_ for the guy, Sam. He’s a… he’s a tactile guy, okay? When he’s down, or—or sick or something, that’s just… that’s just the way we are. Don’t gotta mean there’s anything else to it,”

“Dean,” Sam tried again, shifting in his seat. “He’s.... clearly he’s seen all those things as—as something _else_ ,”

Dean slumped back in his chair and folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s upset about something else. Maybe—”

“C’mon, Dean,” Sam shook his head, making Dean slump a little further, knowing his denial was pointless here.

“Maybe… maybe I shoulda said something. I mean—I didn’t know we even had a _problem_ ,” Dean sighed, dropping his chin down to his chest.

“Like what? What would you have said if you could? _What_? I’m just curious is all,” Sam defended at the thorough scowl Dean gave him then.

“How’m I supposed to know? I never—I never even thought this would be a possibility—an issue,” Dean amended, grimacing at his own choice of words.

“What?” Sam snorted, shaking his head, “Never thought to include _how to tell if you have_ feelings _for someone,_ and _how to deal with finding yourself attracted to both men and women_ in your _being human 101_ lecture?”

“He was an _angel_ , Sam,” Dean scowled again. As in, _genderless_. As in… as in all that crap don’t bother him, none,”

“Alright, how ‘bout ‘ _how to tell if my best friend’s into me or not'—_ ”

“‘S no joke, Sam—”

“I know it isn’t,” Sam agreed, nodding seriously back at him. “But can’t you see how it might be confusing for the guy, when his _best friend_ ’s all over him at all times, giving him the kinda attention I’ve _never_ seen you give anyone else—”

“You make me sound like some kinda sick pervert, you know that, right?”

“Yet shies away from anything even resembling affection with almost everyone else?” Sam continued despite the interruption, raising an eyebrow at Dean and pinning him there where he sat with the look.

Dean sighed, feeling his entire body sag with the defeat he felt. “How do I fix this?”

“You’re asking _me_?” Sam asked with a small laugh, as though he really couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah,”

“Dean. _You’re_ the one he goes to. _You’re_ the one that comforts him, remembers all the stuff he likes and doesn’t like, props him up when he needs it. If anyone is gonna know what Cas needs in this situation it’d be _you_ ,”

“But I _don’t_ , Sam. Honestly, I don’t,” the sympathy in Sam’s eyes had Dean’s heart giving an almighty thud that left him grimacing to himself.

“Well whatever you do. Don’t… don’t laugh it off, or… or quip your way out of it like you usually do,” Sam said, now sounding protective and in doing so prodding at Dean’s defensiveness all over again.

“Whaddya take me for, Sam? I’m not that much of a heartless bastard. I just… I just gotta find a way to let him know that… that we’re _good_ but that… that there’s no _way_ there’s anything else to what we have here,”

Sam watched Dean back without answering, staring so long that Dean found himself growing more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“Or,” Sam started, in a tone that had Dean’s heart begin to race as he braced for whatever he was about to say.

“What?”

“Or,” Sam tried again, breathing as though to steady himself against Dean’s likely angry response. “You could just… not,”

“‘Not’? You think I can just ignore my way outta this, Sam?” Dean snorted, glowering at him. “Since when are you all about _not_ talking about your feelings?”

“I never said that,”

“Then what _did_ you say—”

“Nothing, ‘cos you cut me off,” Sam retorted with a raised, impatient voice.

Dean breathed out hard, fighting to control his temper. “Then what?” he repeated, sounding calmer to his own ear yet no way feeling it.

“What if,” and Sam held his hand out, palm up and out to Dean as though anticipating his reaction even though he’d not said a word yet, “Let me finish before you go off on one,”

“Sam—”

“What if,” Sam repeated, flexing his fingers, “What if first you just... take some time and _think_ about that.”

“Think about _what_?” Dean snapped, bumping his fists on the table. “What’s there to think about? I’ve upset him, unintentionally, I admit, but how’m I s’posed to apologise—make it right with him—if he won’t even talk to me, huh?”

“You care about him. Right?” Sam tried again, shifting tactics and himself, casting his eyes over Dean’s face as though attempting to read him.

“Care? ‘Course I _care_ , Sam. Think we’d be in this mess if I didn’t? Think I’d be sitting here even bothering about it if I didn’t feel like crap for this huge, _huge_ misunderstanding between me and him?”

“Right,” Sam said, nodding to himself. “I… well I don’t know what to tell you then,”

“Hey,” Dean said, desperation creeping into his voice as Sam slid his chair back and slowly stood. “C’mon, man, you gotta help me out here,”

“You know what, Dean?” Sam said, pressing his palms against the table edge and pushing back with a sigh, before pushing himself to his feet and beginning to walk away. “This… this one’s on you. I’m sorry, but it is. I’d say… I’d say you’ve… you’ve got some stuff to figure out,”

“Stuff about _what_?” Dean yelled, frantic and desperate, feeling as though everyone else had been given the answer sheet and he was still sat here, clueless, without so much as a pen to hand.

Sam turned back to him briefly appearing as though he was going to say something else, then lifted and dropped his arms heavily, and walked away, leaving Dean to stare after him helplessly.

* * *

“I am leaving for a short time; I do not yet know for how long,”

Dean’s gut dropped hard at Cas’ words, and coupled with the bile in the back of his throat from seeing the redness around his eyes and his overall crumpled look, Dean was left unable to move, unable to think, unable to even utter a single word.

Dean had spent the night staring up at the ceiling, listening out for Cas’ usual trouble sleeping and half-hoping for it in a selfish way, for the opportunity of having an excuse to go to him, but instead hearing nothing back at all. Which told him of only one possibility; that Cas hadn’t slept all night either. When he’d appeared at his door just now Dean had beckoned him in in relief, half-tempted to tackle him to the bed and hug him there until this awful _missing_ feeling left him and he felt like himself again. Anything to take that broken look off of Cas’ face.

“I think it is for the best,” Cas said with a curt nod as though Dean’s silence had given him all the answer he was looking for. A soft exhale of air that was somehow heavier than a sigh yet less than a groan and then Cas was turning away from him, and that movement was the only thing that seemed to snap Dean out of his daze.

“Wait, what?” Dean said, taking a frantic step forward and as he had done so many times before now, reached out a hand to him, to unthinkingly touch, to offer some kind of comfort and in return _be_ comforted. He stopped abruptly, catching what he was doing and freezing in place just in front of Cas, Dean’s palm close enough to Cas’ sweater sleeve that the softness of it whispered against his skin. But he drew back, stopping himself just in time, straightened up abruptly, and cleared his throat.

“I never asked you to go,” Dean stammered out, cursing himself for the anger in his tone, because that wasn’t what he intended at all. All the things he actually wanted to say clambered to be let out and got tangled up in all of the things he _couldn’t_ , rendering him practically mute.

“Neither are you asking me to stay,” Cas replied drily, casting his eyes over Dean’s for the briefest of moments and then turning abruptly away again.

“‘Cos it’s stupid you even talking about leaving in the first place,” Dean bit out, hearing his words as though they were being said by a third person; because that was not what he meant either, not with _stay stay stay_ being chanted over and over and over in his mind. Why couldn’t he get the word out?

“Yes, Dean,” Cas spun quickly back to him then, anger flaring there beneath the overall look of defeat that was there on his face. “I am _stupid_. I think we have both come to understand that,”

“That’s not what I meant—” Dean tried helplessly.

“It is nothing but the truth,”

“I don’t want you to go,” Dean blurted out then, his own eyes growing wide, startled by his own honesty and hoping to hell it didn’t backfire on him.

Cas tensed in front of him, visibly holding his breath, waiting for Dean to speak again.

“C’mon, man, this ‘s just been a big ole mix up. Nothing for you to feel embarrassed—”

“‘Embarrassed’,” Cas repeated in a tone that once upon a time Dean would have found dangerous, and something to fear. He shrank back from it anyway out of habit, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” Dean said, shaking his head and then taking a stumbling step forward, heart hammering away and a buzzing in his ears that felt so out of body that Dean couldn’t even _think_. “No need for it, I’m telling you. I—”

“There is, apparently, every need for it,” Cas contradicted and turned away again, shouldering his bag more comfortably and heading towards Dean’s bedroom door.

“Cas—”

“Sam has given me a new credit card. I will stay somewhere else… somewhere away from here for a few days. Give myself some time to think. I will… I cannot imagine why you would want to—I think it best, that—”

“That what?” Dean demanded, his throat becoming thick and his eyes stinging with the threat of tears. He also questioned exactly _when_ Sam would have had time to even arrange a card for Cas; Dean had kept a straining ear out for Cas since he’d first walked away from him yesterday and would have noticed if he’d have left his room. Had Cas been listening back too? Listening for the opportunity to arise when Dean left _his_ room for the brief few minutes it took to go to the bathroom or get something to drink, to go and find Sam behind his back?

“I will be in contact. With Sam,” Cas emphasized his last sentence and he may as well have punched Dean in the stomach for how it left him feeling. Dean got it, he really did; Cas needed _someone_ to reach out to at the moment and clearly wasn’t going to be comfortable going to _him_ any time soon, but still. It was almost surprising just how painful that realization was, that Cas’ first port of call hadn’t been, as it had always been up until now, him.

“Cas,” Dean tried one final time, but was left standing there dumbly as Cas walked out of his room, listening to his footsteps fade away and the sound of the bunker door being closed moments later off in the distance.

As though on autopilot, Dean closed the door that Cas had left gaping wide open with his departure, crawled back on to the bed and switched out the light, curling in on himself in the dark. It took several minutes for Dean to realize he was shaking, and several more for him to acknowledge the tears soaking into his pillow, turning into it briefly and cursing as he taunted himself with the thought that perhaps he could still make out the faint smell Cas’ shampoo there from a few days ago.

Cas had stayed in Dean’s room several times now, and Dean in Cas’ countless more; in fact of late, it had become very rare for them not to fall asleep with each other in touching distance if not actually curled around one another.

 _Comfort_ , Dean told himself. _Something else_ his mind countered against him. Dean adamantly shook his head as though that would shed him of his confusion, and rolled purposely away, determinedly not thinking that he was deliberately facing away from _Cas’ side_ of the bed.

* * *

Dean woke abruptly several hours later with a gasp of breath and a fumbling out of his hand to shakily switch the light on. Already angry for having fallen asleep in the first place, Dean grew angrier still with himself to see how low his battery was on his cell.

Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed and sitting upright, Dean didn’t hesitate in calling Cas’ number, cursing loudly, standing and shoving a hand hard against the wall enough to make the headboard shake, and his arm hurt, when the call immediately clicked over to voicemail. Dean threw the phone on to the bed in fury as he glared down at it, then quickly stooped over and picked it back up, rapidly typing out a message to Cas.

But with his thumb hovering over the _send_ key he paused, frowning back at the words he’d just written. They were far too demanding, and angry for what Dean wanted—and needed to say to Cas. Besides; there was every chance Cas would just delete any messages coming from him if he wouldn’t even answer his phone call, Dean told himself then, the realization of that making him feel a little sick.

Quickly thumbing the message deleted Dean stood, yanking his bedroom door open and stamping out in search of Sam. He found him in the kitchen quietly fixing a sandwich as though their worlds hadn’t just been turned upside down, coming to an abrupt halt by his side, every inch of him radiating seething.

“Want one?” Sam asked calmly, already reaching out to grab a couple more slices of bread.

“You gave him a _credit card_?” Dean demanded, ignoring the way Sam dropped the bread down on the counter and his hands to the side.

“Dean. He _wanted_ to leave,”

“So you _let_ him?” Dean demanded again, furiously curling his hands into fists.

“What was I supposed to do? Stick him on a leash? Tell him he _couldn’t_?” Sam asked, raising his own voice to show his own anger at the situation despite his outward appearance of being unaffected. “Wouldn’t you rather know he had some kinda money at least if he’s out there on his own?”

“When’d you find time to get him a card, huh?” Dean growled, shaking his head and laughing coldly. “What’d you two do—wait for the second I was taking a piss for you to plan this? Messaging each other waiting for me to be out of earshot?”

Anger made Dean irrational but he could picture it now; Cas and Sam trading messages back and forth in secret as he laid there going out of his mind on his own.

“Alright, first—don’t take this shit out on me, Dean. You messed up here, not me. And yeah, I get maybe you didn’t mean to mess up, but you did, okay? That’s—that’s not on me, and it’s not on Cas either,”

Dean continued to scowl back at him but said nothing, quietly raging up a storm inside. Sam sighed, his shoulders dropping as he folded his arms across his chest.

“And second—Charlie gave us a bunch of cards, remember? I got her to activate one, gave him what cash I had on me, Charlie set him up in a hotel—”

“Where,” Dean seethed, fury making it near on impossible for him to think of anything but getting to Cas, and _now_.

“Dean, he _asked_ to leave. He _asked_ to be left alone. Don’t you think—”

“Don’t _you_ think I won’t tear you a new one if you don’t tell me where he is,”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s anger, and Dean took a small amount of comfort in that because it meant Sam knew the anger wasn’t really directed at him. At least one of them was still capable of clear thoughts at least.

“And don’t think I won’t tell you,”

That pulled Dean up short, a temporary stopper in his anger because yes, deep down he _did_ already know that.

“I just—I want you to go there with a clear head, okay?” Sam said, slowly pulling his phone out of his pocket as Dean’s eyes watched the movement with a furious glare.

“I—”

“I mean,” Sam tried again, shaking his head at Dean’s interruption, “Don’t go in there all guns blazing demanding he speaks to you, or—or whatever it is you were planning on doing,”

“Honestly? I haven’t thought further than just getting to him,” Dean said, some of the anger dropping as he wrapped his fingers around the back of a chair and pushed against it for the stretch across his back, feeling the tension crackle and boil there and yet somehow feel _good_ , because any pain he was feeling here was _deserved_.

“Exactly. No point you going in and—and not knowing what you’re gonna say, blurting any shit out,”

“I’m—I’m gonna _say_ he’s being—that he’s being… that this is all pointless and he shouldn’t have left in the first place,”

“Exactly,” Sam nodded, “That’s exactly what I thought you were gonna say, and that’s not gonna help here one bit,”

“I—”

“Dean,” Sam said, straightening himself up a little taller. “Just… just _think_ before you speak to him, okay? Just… think about what you really need to say before you just… you just say the first crap that comes to mind,”

“Address, Sammy,” Dean said, fixing him with a glare and holding out his hand, its steadiness in stark contrast to the way he was internally crumbling apart. Sam stared down at Dean’s fingers for a moment then relented, sighing as he looked down at the phone now in his hands and started thumbing through.

“I’m sending you the details Charlie sent me,”

“Why’d you drag her into this mess anyway?” Dean asked, his voice still laced with anger.

“I—who else coulda sorted the card, and a hotel so quickly, huh? I mean, we’re good, but she’s a genius, you know that,”

Dean’s frown grew a little deeper. “She… she put him in a hotel?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded again, pressing his lips together. “She figured—she figured he could use some time in a place a little better than our usual if he needs some time alone, so...”

“Great,” Dean said, nodding and smiling without humor, narrowing his eyes and scowling furiously at Sam. “So she knows. She knows too, and—”

“And _nothing_ , Dean. C’mon. Charlie’s… Charlie loves you. _Us_ , She’s not… she’s not gonna—”

“It is no one’s _business_ here but mine and his,” Dean growled, pointing in the direction of the doorway.

“I—”

“Not interested, Sammy,”

Dean heard Sam’s disapproving sigh as he stormed out of the kitchen but was too incensed to do anything but dismiss it. He all but threw himself into the Impala, impatiently zooming in on the address on his phone and aggressively steering the car away at full speed.

* * *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean pulled up outside the hotel and cast his eye over the expensive-looking building, allowing the idle thought that maybe from now on they should ask for Charlie’s help for all their accommodation needs.

Cutting the engine, Dean grabbed for his phone again to check the room details, not that he hadn’t already committed them to memory having mumbled them over and over again under his breath the entire ride here. He wondered if the reception desk would give him any hassle but was relieved to find the receptionist already busy with a guest, so deftly snuck into the elevator and hit the button for Cas’ floor.

Dean was preparing for an argument, and bracing to have to force the hotel door open to be allowed in if necessary, gritting his teeth in agitation as the elevator came to a stop. He counted down for Cas’ room, stood outside of it, feeling the irony of having been in this very position back at the bunker not so long ago, and forced out a breath to steady himself.

His knuckles rapped once against the solidness of the door, sounding efficient and brokering no room for argument. He debated knocking again but forced himself to pause, allowing that a hotel of this quality wouldn’t let the sound carry so easily through the door as would have happened at a motel, so he wouldn’t necessarily be able to hear if Cas was moving on the other side or not.

A moment later he heard the lock turning, wondered about how well it would be received to lecture Cas about the importance of checking the spyhole in the door first then let it drop as the door swung open and Cas stood before him in the doorway.

Dean sucked in a breath, cursing himself for not having prepared himself better for this as he looked Cas up and down, struggling now to think of what to say. So he continued to look Cas over: Cas stood before him still with an expression that spoke of a thorough lack of sleep, with a stubbled jaw and a long face that whispered misery at him, and a stoop and crumpled clothing that had Dean want to barrel forward and hold on to Cas tight, to reassure himself Cas was really there.

Dean didn’t do that though, instead just cleared his throat and stared back, waiting, though he honestly didn’t know for what. When Cas didn’t move or say a word, Dean knew he’d be the first to break, so let out another blast of breath and tapped his fingers rapidly on the door panel, the sound it made just as impatient as he was feeling.

“Gonna let me in, Cas?”

For another moment Dean thought maybe Cas really wouldn’t, but then he was clearing his throat, taking a step back, allowing Dean in without ever taking his eyes off of him. To avoid that stare Dean glanced around the room, letting out a low whistle of appreciation at their surroundings.

“Charlie set you up good, huh?” Dean said, somehow his heart resting a little easier to know that Cas really was in a decent place if he wasn’t back at home with him.

“She did. She has been most… helpful,” Dean turned at the hesitance of Cas’ words, raising his eyebrow.

“You guys been, uh, chatting?”

“She has been messaging me, yes. She wanted to Skype, actually. I said no. I think she is attempting to keep me company and I am in no mood for company,”

Dean swallowed hard then, feeling as unwelcome as he probably was. “How long do you reckon you’ll be here?”

“Charlie said that the reservation was for seven nights, and that I should tell her if— _when_ I want to find another place to stay,”

“I mean I guess why you’d want a bit of luxury,” Dean said, shrugging as though unaffected whilst his heart raged and his hope sunk heavy. “And I get why you’d... You’d want to maybe take a few days for yourself,”

“Yes,”

“But you know,” Dean continued, cuffing his hand to the back of his neck and beginning to pace around the room, which had to be at least twice the size of the motel rooms they usually ended up in, he thought to himself then, and then angrily snapped at himself for getting distracted, “When you’ve got a home… it seems—”

“Do I, Dean?” Cas replied with coldness, his expression carefully as neutral as possible; Dean could see the effort it took Cas to do that and had to fight back the urge to tell him not to, to wrap his arms around him and tell him everything was going to be okay.

“What?”

“Have a home,”

As though propelled, Dean instantly stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around Cas’ arm, making both of them freeze where they stood.

“That’s… course you got a home, Cas. Nothing… nothing’s ever gonna change about that,”

“Not even with our ‘misunderstanding’, Dean?”

“I—”

“Can you bear to share a home with someone who you clearly are so uncomfortable around?” Cas asked, a quiet fury undercutting his words.

Dean slid his hand away from Cas, shaking his head slowly. “Cas… where’d you get the idea I… I never said I was uncomfortable with you around. When—what gave you that idea?”

Cas gave him a look that told Dean exactly how ridiculous he thought his question was, and turned away from him, sinking down to sit on the edge of a bed that looked thick, warm and comfortable. Dean hoped that perhaps those factors at least might encourage Cas to sleep eventually if nothing else did, though somehow he doubted it very much.

“Cas,” Dean pleaded, dragging his eyes away from the bed and up to Cas’ face, wishing he had the strength to go and sit down beside him. “Can we… we can figure this out, right?”

“What is there to ‘figure out’?”

Forcing himself to keep his temper Dean looked around him and walked over to the hardback chair at the desk, placing it directly in front of Cas but far enough back to give him the space if he needed it. “I… I want you to be okay,”

“I will be fine,” Cas mumbled looking at the carpet.

“Yeah, but you’re not, are you? I mean… have you slept at _all_?”

“I have not. I _cannot_ ,”

“Cas…” Dean tried desperately, wishing he’d actually planned some things to say on the drive over.

“I need some time, Dean,” Cas said then, so quiet, and so broken that Dean’s hands itched to reach out for him.

“I’m… I’m _sorry_ , Cas. I never meant—”

“It is of no consequence,” Cas cut him off, his face becoming drawn as though he feared hearing what Dean had to say would physically hurt.

“Cas—”

“I’m… not angry with you,” Cas said so suddenly that Dean had to wonder if Cas had rehearsed a conversation in his head in case he showed up; part of him took comfort in that, in Cas perhaps knowing he would come, but part just wanted to punch himself in the face for that pain on Cas’ that he’d been the one to put there.

“I’m… I’m real pleased to hear that, Cas, although I’d kinda understand if you were at least a little mad at me,”

“I am… furious with myself, however,”

“Why?” Dean asked, trying to keep his voice as low and as soft as possible.

“I should have known,”

“Cas…” Dean tried again, his voice cracking and desperately wishing he had the words to make this better. “You know I… I’d… I’d never doing anything to intentionally hurt you, right? I mean… you _know_ that, yeah?”

“I only have myself to blame—”

“Cas, no, no you _don’t_ , don’t say that—”

“Then who should I blame, Dean? You?”

Dean flinched at Cas’ tone, thinking Cas might not have been entirely truthful when he said that his anger wasn’t directed at him. Not that he’d blame him for a second, of course; how could he when he’d carried on the way he had, allowing Cas to think—

“I—”

“No, Dean. It is I who misinterpreted the… the _situation_ between us,”

Cas’ voice dropped to such dejection then that Dean was dragging the chair forward and leaning his hands on Cas’ thighs, staring at him imploringly.

“It felt… I thought… I—”

To Dean’s utter horror the next thing that came out of Cas’ mouth was a choked sob, and Cas pulled back from him violently, withdrawing his knees so Dean lost his balance and stumbled forward, a hand out against the edge of the bed to steady himself.

Dean continued to watch as Cas drew his feet up under himself and curled himself so small in the middle of the bed that Dean wondered if he was trying to disappear in on himself. He waited for Cas to compose himself, hating though unable to tear his eyes away from the way his jaw violently trembled, and after a couple of deep breaths how he nodded, almost to himself, turning his attention back to Dean, though entirely avoiding his eye contact this time.

“Perhaps I am a little angry at you also. I apologise,”

“You got… _nothing_ , to apologise for, Cas. This is just… it’s just—”

“It is not what you want. I should have realised. I should have _known_ ,”

Dean closed his eyes at the sad, agonised way Cas drew out that final word. His heart ached dully and his arms too, but with an entirely different type of ache, the kind that had him fighting the urge to climb on to the bed beside him and pull Cas down to lay in his arms like he’d done so many times already. But that, that wouldn’t help this situation one bit, not when—

“I think you should leave, Dean. I am sorry; I am not ready for this conversation. I apologise for being… overdramatic,”

“Cas—”

“Please, Dean,”

Cas looked up at Dean then with such pain in his eyes it took all of Dean’s strength to force himself to stand, to tuck the chair back from where he’d dragged it and stand awkwardly before Cas with the distance between them feeling cavernous instead of barely two feet.

“Can… can I come back? When you’re feeling better? Tomorrow?” Dean asked, already wondering to himself how he’d manage to kill the next twenty four hours when all he wanted to do was crawl into bed beside Cas and not leave again until he was forgiven. Or maybe even longer.

“I will not be feeling _better_ by tomorrow, Dean. Of that I am certain if nothing else,”

Dean swallowed thickly, fighting back the lump in his throat and pleading with himself to hold on to the tears that were threatening, at least until he got back to the car.

“Can… can I come anyway? Please, Cas, I… I wanna see you,”

Dean thought desperately for a moment how he could word that better so that there was no room for misunderstanding between them, and no way of causing Cas any more pain. But he couldn’t, because it wasn’t anything but the truth; he _did_ want to see Cas, _needed_ to see him. In fact he didn’t want to let him out of his sight, but it didn’t seem as though Cas would agree with him on that in the slightest.

“It… I cannot stop you, if you wish to return. Even if I do not understand why you would want to come back,”

“I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, Cas,” Dean mumbled, watching as Cas very carefully kept his gaze down on his own lap and away from Dean. “I’ll… take care of yourself, okay? And… try and get some sleep at least. And… for what it’s worth… I really am sorry, Cas. I never meant—”

“Goodbye, Dean,”

Cas forced his eyes up to look at Dean again and Dean knew that image would play on his mind when he himself tried to sleep—probably long before then as well, if it would ever really leave his mind. Cas’ jaw continued to tremble where he fought against the urge to cry, but his eyes already gave him away, glassy and so sad Dean wished desperately for an easy solution to this. To see Cas so very broken like that, so utterly wounded and _miserable_ , to know that _he’d_ caused that, it was too much for Dean to be able to handle.

“Bye, Cas,”

Dean carefully closed the door behind him waiting for the telltale snicking noise that showed it was fully shut, then turned to walk down to the elevator. The tears had already started to pool in his eyes, and as the elevator doors closed, sealing him in, those tears hit his cheeks, with Dean closing his eyes to shut everything out.

* * *

When Dean arrived the next day he stood outside Cas’ hotel room door for a good five minutes before feeling the bravery he needed to even knock. Cas’ answer was longer too, and Dean couldn’t help thinking that it was no good sign at all.

Cas answered with a scowl on his face and his hair sticking up even more on end than usual, wincing as though the light hurt his eyes. Dean’s grew wider in alarm and he pushed his way into the room with so little resistance from Cas that it took all he had not to reach out and grab at him right there and then, to pull him into a hug.

“Been drinking, Cas?” Dean asked shrewdly, the darkness of the room and the discarded bottles by the bed answering the question for him.

“Apparently,”

Dean had a flash of memory of a future where Cas sought comfort in the bottom of bottles and the swallow of pills and shuddered at it, stamping over to the window and yanking the curtains open and the window wide to let some fresh air in.

Cas winced again at the sudden brightness and sunk back onto the bed with a groan, reaching for the half-empty bottle closest to him and taking a long glug before Dean could stop him.

“Hey, cut that out,” he said, grabbing at the bottle and glaring.

“I thought you— _we_ had already agreed that it was okay for you to corrupt me in any way you pleased,” Cas said in mild amusement, snatching the bottle from Dean’s fingers catching him unawares and taking another long drink. “This _is_ the Winchester way of, uh, dealing with problems, is it not?”

“Hey, enough already,” Dean demanded, snatching the bottle back away from Cas and beginning to tidy around him. In the space of a day Cas had turned the room into chaos, with an empty pizza box on the floor, crumpled up chip packets strewn everywhere and what looked like every candy wrapper under the sun spewing off of the bedside cabinet in a multicoloured fountain.

“Cas,” Dean said, trying to find some humour in the situation, “You look like you just about hit every cliche going for dealing with heartbreak,”

“Well my heart is broken, Dean, so it would seem fitting,”

The room’s small metal trash can that Dean had been slowly filling with Cas’ mess clattered tinnily to the floor at his feet as he stood up straighter, spinning back to Cas with his mouth wide open at both his own thoughtlessness and Cas’ open honesty.

“C’mon, Cas—”

“You do not get to decide how I deal with this, Dean,” Cas told him in as furious a tone as he could muster. “Nor do you get to decide if I am feeling how I _think_ I am feeling or not. This is not your burden—”

“Kinda is if you’re upset ‘cos of me, Cas,” Dean said softly, dropping to crouch in front of Cas and wincing as it took Cas so long to focus on him. Dean resisted the urge to shift his hand from the bed to Cas’ thigh as he balanced, though he fought with himself weakly against the idea.

“I am sure it was unintentional,” Cas mumbled, closing his eyes as though weariness had taken him over completely.

“It is. It—it _was_. I promise; I’d never want you to feel like this ‘cos of me,”

“It is too late for that,” Cas sighed, curling in on himself again and making Dean’s heart ache to see it.

“You showered yet today, Cas?” Dean asked then, straightening back up and clutching at straws to find something to say to him that wasn’t incendiary.

“I fail to see why that is necessary. I have no intention of going anywhere,”

Dean hummed to himself then spun back around, realising far too late that Cas was still in exactly the same clothes he had been wearing when he’d left the bunker; in fact—the very same clothes he’d been wearing when he and Dean had been sat together on that couch before all hell had broken loose between them.

“You—you need me to bring you some other clothes, Cas?”

“I have clothes,”

“I meant a _change_ of clothes, Cas,”

“I have clothes,” Cas repeated. “In my holdall. It is somewhere,” vaguely stirring his hand in the air as he spoke to indicate he didn’t quite know where.

“So get changed then, alright? Take a shower, maybe take a walk—hey, I’ll come with, we’ll—”

“I am perfectly fine here,” Cas said, snagging up the bottle Dean had been making his way to the bathroom with to tip down the sink, and draining the last of it before Dean could even comment.

“Cas,” Dean protested. “This—this isn’t the answer,”

“And what _is_ the answer?” Cas demanded then, glaring up at Dean as best he could, with Dean suddenly realising just how drunk Cas really was. In fact, if he thought about it, Cas had all but staggered to the bed when Dean had arrived, and looking at him now, Dean had to assume Cas was planning on making it a session. Or continuing one, anyway; there was enough evidence to tell Dean Cas’d been at this for hours already.

“Please, Cas—”

“Why do you care?” Cas asked with an arch to his voice, glaring at Dean as though in challenge.

“I—what? Why _wouldn’t_ I care? Why—after everything we’ve been through together do you think I’d just up and stop caring about you just like that, huh?”

“It is clearly a drain on your time. You should stop,” Cas said, frowning and inspecting his fingers as though he had forgotten they were attached to him.

“Hey, enough, alright?”

“I will decide when it is enough,” Cas bit back at him and then groaned, slumping back on the bed and flipping over messily, rummaging on the other side where Dean couldn’t see and triumphantly retrieving another bottle before struggling to sit up again.

“Cas…” Dean pleaded, watching helplessly as Cas opened and took a gulp from that bottle, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You should leave, Dean,” Cas said tiredly, absently reaching out and grabbing a handful of chips from a bag Dean hadn’t spotted on the actual bed. Dean continued to watch as Cas fumbled for the remote and pointed it vaguely in the direction of the TV, losing himself in whatever was on the screen in clear dismissal of him.

“And there is no need for you to return tomorrow. I am not your responsibility,”

Dean continued to watch Cas for a few more minutes, then quietly went about cleaning up for him and sliding a glass of water next to the bed, along with a strip of painkillers he sometimes kept in his wallet, in case Cas might need them later. He mumbled a goodbye that Cas didn’t even acknowledge, closing the door and walking almost in a trance back to the car, finding himself still sat there half an hour later not even aware of how the time had passed.

With a grimace Dean fired up the engine and gripped hard to the steering wheel for a moment, glancing up at the building once more and allowing his shoulders to slump, then steering the car out and heading back to the bunker.

* * *

“So Jody called,”

Dean looked up from the book he’d not been reading for what felt like hours, and waited for Sam to carry on. Sam nodded, sliding down heavily on to the seat opposite looking, Dean realised, exhausted.

“Said there’s been a few odd stories lately of bodies being found with strange markings and people saying they’ve seen, like, I don’t know. Some kind of horned goat man,”

Dean snorted and turned back to the book dismissively. “Horned goat man, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam continued to watch Dean, Dean could feel that, but chose to say nothing. “So I was thinking. It’s a bit… well, Jody called us for a reason. It’s sort of our thing, right?”

“You telling me you don’t think Jody and Donna can’t handle this?” Dean snorted again, shaking his head. “Can’t wait to be a fly on the wall when you say that to Jody; man, she’s gonna eat you alive,”

In his head though Dean was already automatically running through the possibilities, wondering how long it’d take them to deal with this, if he could swing by the hotel and pick Cas up on the way. There was no way he was comfortable leaving this for Jody and Donna to look into alone, despite what he’d just said to Sam. But there was equally no way he was going anywhere at the moment, not if he couldn’t convince Cas to come with them.

Maybe a case would be perfect, Dean thought to himself, sitting up a little straighter at the idea. Maybe if they could just do something _normal_ together—and for them, normal _was_ a case—then maybe Cas would start feeling better about things. Maybe even come back. Maybe this whole disaster could be swept up and dealt with as easy as that.

“You even listening to me?”

Sam’s slightly raised voice brought Dean back to the present and he raised his head again to look over at him.

“Yeah. Goat man—”

“I _said_ , I was thinking of going alone. Jody said I could stay—”

“What? Wait— _what_?” Dean said, sitting forward a little and closing the book against his lap, letting it fall to his side.

“Dean. I’m sure between the three of us we can deal with whatever this thing is. You’ve… you’ve got stuff to deal with here,”

“Oh like _that_ is it?” Dean huffed, slamming the book closed. “You just decided you wanted some alone time with Jody, and so you’re just up and leaving—”

“Okay. Stop being a dick,” Sam’s tone was nothing but unimpressed, and enough to make Dean feel at least a little embarrassed with himself.

“Firstly, _she_ called _me_. About a potential _case_. ‘Cos, like, this is what we _do_? Or did you forget that in all the moping around you’ve been doing—”

“I am _not_ moping—”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed coldly, rolling his eyes.

Dean had the grace to feel chastised then and sighed, drumming his fingers against the book and waiting for Sam to speak again.

“Look,” Sam said, shifting a little, “It—I think if I go and check this thing out, and we can deal with it without you- good. But if not I’ll just… I’ll call, okay? You—take a break, take—”

“I don’t _need_ a break,” Dean protested, all but throwing the book in his hands across the room. Sam’s eyes were on the book, watching Dean’s grip around its edges tighten.

“Yeah. Right. You don’t need a break. You’re not so… tightly coiled up over there you’re not about ready to smash the place to pieces,”

“How’d you know I won’t do exactly that the second you leave, huh?” Dean countered, glaring and feeling irrational fury boil beneath his skin.

“You need to talk to Cas, Dean,”

Though the statement was nothing but truth Dean shrank back from it. He’d been trying to think of about a hundred different ways to try and solve this situation with Cas, but nothing came to mind that was anywhere near useful. And if he was really truthful, Dean thought with a painful swallow, he missed Cas ridiculously. More than anything he could imagine, more than he even thought he could miss a person; Cas had become such a constant in his life since he’d fallen, and Dean had somehow gotten so used to the idea of Cas being around, that now he wasn’t there was this great, gaping hole in his world.

Dean frowned at that image, but there was no way of painting it any differently, because it was nothing but the truth: he _did_ miss Cas, so very, very much.

“Dean—”

“I’m working on it, okay?”

“Working on it _how_?” Sam asked, sounding exasperated. “By sitting here and scowling, barking at me every chance you get and not _doing_ anything?”

“I—I’m thinking, okay? He… he told me not to visit yesterday, so—so I’m doing what he asked, okay? Just…. Staying away...”

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. But—you need to _fix_ this, Dean. We can’t— _you_ can’t live like this. You need focus, and you’re _beyond_ distracted with this,”

“If you’re going and dealing with cases without me don’t look like I _need_ to focus, right, Sam?” Dean bit back, already wincing in apology the moment the last word flew from his mouth.

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“I’m trying, okay? Okay, maybe I’m not trying all that hard right now. But that’s just ‘cos I don’t know what to _do_ here,”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, folding his arms tightly across his chest. “Maybe try being honest with yourself. Maybe it’ll—”

“Honest with _myself_?” Dean repeated, incredulous, not believing what he was hearing. “What’ve I got to be honest with _myself_ about here, huh, Sam?”

“Dean—”

“No,” Dean said, standing abruptly and glowering at him, “Tell me, Sam, since you’re the one with all the insights. What _exactly_ am I supposed to be being honest with myself _about_ , huh?”

Sam’s look of pity, Dean reflected as he tried to tamper down on his rage, was one that he disliked more than any. He hated the look coming from anyone, but particularly from Sam; Dean grimaced to himself and looked away, almost vibrating there on the spot with his anger.

“When are you leaving?” Dean demanded, desperate to change the subject.

“Later today. Maybe in an hour or two,”

“Great,” Dean scoffed, slapping his hands down noisily on this thighs. “So you’ve already made the decision about going and what, just come to tell me?”

“Essentially, yeah,” Sam said, breathing out slow in the face of Dean’s anger. Dean growled at himself all over again, this time for taking his rage out on Sam, when this was not his fault in any way at all.

“Great,” Dean said again, nodding and smiling bitterly. “Well you just—I guess I’ll see you,”

“Dean—”

Dean stamped away from Sam before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say and threw himself into the sanctuary of his room.

* * *

 

  



	8. Chapter 8

Dean braced himself outside of Cas’ hotel room again, forcing himself to breathe calmly before he would allow himself to knock. He waited, with what had to be no more than perhaps thirty seconds dragging reluctantly by, and resulting in Dean sagging in relief that Cas was actually opening the door to him.

Cas looked better, Dean thought with a smile, or at least, partially better. He’d changed his clothes, and despite the bruises beneath his eyes telling the story of his continued trouble sleeping, his face had a touch more color to it, and his stubble was to a minimum that said he must have shaved at least some point since Dean had last seen him.

Wordlessly Cas stepped back and gestured for Dean to come in. As Dean heard the door click behind him he glanced around the room with pleased surprise: the window was open, the room clean, and in place of the frankly disturbing amount of alcohol that had been scattered around the place when he’d last visited there was now juice, some fruit, a packet of tea Dean recognised as being one of the ones he’d previously bought Cas to try to help him sleep, and of course, a ton of candy.

When Cas saw Dean’s expression he sighed, nodding and turning to walk towards the bed, slumping down there as though his entire body was sighing along with him. “Charlie, uh, lectured me about the mess,” he admitted, sounding contrite.

Dean made a mental note to thank Charlie but simply nodded, grabbing the chair he’d sat down on a couple of days ago and placing it in front of Cas again. “So? How’ve you been?”

Cas settled himself comfortably on the bed, crossing his legs and letting his fingers fall in the gap between. “I could lie and say fine,”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Dean said, a longing feeling stirring up in his chest and confusing his thoughts.

Cas nodded as though he expected that answer and turned his head away for a moment. “I showered. I… changed my clothes, went for some walks, read a little,”

Dean glanced over at the tablet on the bedside cabinet and smiled softly.

“Still the Iliad?”

“Charlie insisted that I read The Lord of The Rings so that she can _quiz me_ later,” Cas sounded bewildered by the prospect and frowned as though to emphasize that confusion.

Dean’s smile was automatic; he found himself loving the idea of Charlie being a friend to Cas, and that she’d actually managed to persuade him to do something Cas had turned his nose up at far too often for Dean’s liking when he’d suggested it himself.

But imagining the Skype call between them that led to this rapid turnaround that made Cas look like he actually cared a bit about himself again also made Dean so unbearably sad that Charlie had managed to reach Cas where he himself could not, and that Cas had even needed that kind of talk in the first place.

“How’re you finding it?” is what Dean said instead, growling at himself to not be so selfish.

“It is enjoyable,” Cas replied as though reluctant to admit it. For a moment Dean thought perhaps he might have even considered smiling, but the change of expression was too quick for him to be sure.

“So,” Dean said, with no clue what he wanted to say next.

“So,” Cas agreed, as though he echoed that sentiment.

Silence followed as was to be expected between them. Dean shifted uncomfortably as Cas pointedly looked anywhere but at him, clutching at fragments of conversations desperate for a neutral subject to start on and struggling to find one that would work.

“Sam’s gone on a hunt,” he blurted out eventually in one short blast that had Cas turning his head back to him instantly and staring in question.

“Alone?”

“Well. Jody called. Some stuff going on where she is, so not exactly alone,”

“Why did you not go?” Cas asked, his voice becoming monotone as though he was forcing himself to sound neutral, though, Dean noted, Cas’ shoulders had squared, rigid as anything.

“Wasn’t invited,” Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Sam came to me when the decision to go had already been made between ‘em. Said he was going, and that was it,”

Cas watched Dean’s emphasis of his words with the flick of his fingers and gave a small nod. “I see,”

The moment those two small words were out of Cas' mouth Dean cursed himself, all the more for hearing Cas’ controlled breathing and the flicker of sadness that rippled across his face before he managed to school it back in. His shoulders dropped, and watching that made Dean’s stomach plummet at well, rapidly shaking his head against Cas misunderstanding what he meant.

“I wouldnt’ve gone anyway, Cas. Invite or not. Not with things the way they are between us,”

“I see,” Cas said again, this time his expression giving nothing away.

“Do you?” Dean asked, leaning forward. “You know I wouldn’t—I couldn’t go anywhere, or do anything with things so… so unsettled between us,”

“Unless of course, it was the end of the world again—”

“Cas,” Dean pleaded, “C’mon, man, throw me a bone here,”

“I have no bone—”

“Don’t you pretend you don’t know what I mean,” Dean reprimanded, sitting back up again and attempting not to glare, because Cas didn’t deserve that. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on with you. What I can—”

“You already know what is going on with me, Dean,”

Cas’ neutral tone wobbled revealing just how utterly broken he was really feeling; Dean wanted to kick himself all over again.

“So talk to me. Please, Cas; kinda going crazy with all this. I…”

Cas’ eyes shot up with Dean’s obvious hesitance and Dean felt his throat constricting with his attempts to either speak or keep in the words he was trying to say.

“You what?” Cas demanded, a small frown on his face that for some reason Dean became fixated by and couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

“I… I miss you, okay?” Dean said, the words stumbling out messily and his face all but crumpling up with embarrassment. Cas’ eyes dropped to the color on Dean’s cheeks and that frown grew a touch deeper.

“I would prefer you not to say things you didn’t mean—”

“I do mean it,” Dean insisted, leaning forward again, even shuffling the chair a little closer. “I do. It’s… weird without you around. I… miss it. Miss you, Cas,”

Cas kept an accusatory glare on Dean’s cheeks that flared even brighter under the attention, and Dean did his best to keep still under it instead of squirming like he wanted to. “You do not wish to admit it,”

“What? I—no, Cas, I mean—yeah: it’s embarrassing saying stuff like that out loud. And I—”

“Would not wish for me to misinterpret it,” Cas finished for him drily, holding Dean’s gaze for as long as he could before sadness seemed to consume him all over again.

“Cas—”

“I loved you,”

The breath in Dean’s lungs disappeared, his heart began an erratic beat of protest, his palms felt clammy where they rested on his jean legs and for a moment Dean wondered if he was about to pass out.

Cas glowered at Dean’s obvious seizing up and nodded, smiling icily to himself as though something had just been confirmed to him.

“I have loved you. For a very, very long time. Years, Dean: I will not hide that from you now. Perhaps if I had been honest about that from the beginning…”

Dean watched helplessly as Cas’ voice trailed away and his gaze dropped to focus on the fingers knotting and unknotting together on his own lap.

“Why—”

“Why did I not tell you?” Cas laughed, shaking his head. “Your reaction in this moment should be reason enough,”

“I meant,” Dean stuttered, feeling as though electricity was surging through his veins. “I meant why. Why would you… why would an angel love a human, anyway?”

Dean thought about his words, wondered at his ability to think one thing and say something else entirely and sat, waiting for the consequence of his outburst.

“I cannot speak of other angels, and I did not fall in love with a human. I fell in love with you,”

“Yeah, but why?” Dean demanded feeling thoroughly out of his depth, as though every nerve in his body was over-sensitized and he didn’t know how to process the sensations coursing through him.

“You will forgive me for not wishing to list all of the reasons, Dean. It is… I am too selfish currently to offer you that,” Cas said, sounding as though he was attempting to be cold but looking completely in conflict with his own words even as he said them.

“I—” Dean began but stopped himself. Because pushing it sounded too much like he was seeking out some kind of ego boost, and although that couldn’t be farther from the truth right now, Dean was still attempting to get to his head around Cas’ confession.

“As for why I did not tell you,” Cas continued, swallowing thickly and with a grimace, as though there was something bitter on his tongue, “Firstly, I had never experienced such an emotion before. I was baffled by it. I did not know what to do with it, how to talk about it. I followed your example of keeping things to myself, of not discussing it at all. It felt… the right thing to do, the thing that you would have wanted me to do,”

“I—”

“And of course, there was never really an appropriate moment—”

“But—”

“And,” Cas pushed on, ignoring Dean’s interruption, “Since I had no reason to think that the sentiment would be returned, I felt it foolish to reveal myself. I did not wish to ruin the relationship we already had,”

Memories assaulted Dean from all sides then, with images of times he and Cas had spent together whilst Cas had still been an angel, their closeness even then, the feeling of right that he got back then from being in Cas’ company. How could he be mixing up those things with what was happening now?

“In fact,” Cas added, with a blast of air, “It wasn’t until I had fallen. Until I was thoroughly human that I let myself believe—assume, that you perhaps did reciprocate,”

Dean’s breath caught again and he found himself stranded, desperate to escape whatever Cas was about to say yet so desperately needing to hear it as well.

“I assumed, I realize now, foolishly, that we were… that there was… that we had a relationship that was more. That was beyond mere friendship. I assumed, because it felt as though we were more than that. Because it felt right,”

“Cas,” Dean all but whispered, shaking his head; the movement seemed to infuriate Cas, because he was suddenly balling his fists tightly against his thighs and looking as though he was attempting to hold himself back from lashing out.

When Cas looked back up at Dean then, Dean flinched, hard, felt himself leaning back away from the mixture of incensed anger and uncontrolled agony there on Cas’ face.

“You made me think... Your actions made me believe—”

“Cas—”

“You cared for me, Dean,” Cas bit out, leaning so far forward that he looked in danger of toppling over and off of the bed.

“You took care of me when I fell. You went to great lengths to do things for me so that I would be happy. You clothed me, fed me. Both sometimes literally. You even helped me shave when I could not,”

“Cas—”

“You held me, Dean,” Cas choked out, eyes now bright and round and making Dean’s heart hammer even harder. “You held me. Whenever I needed comfort, sometimes before I even knew I needed it myself. You slept in my bed, helped me sleep when I couldn’t because of nightmares, let me fall asleep on you in your bed when I couldn’t sleep any other way,”

Dean felt tears pricking in his own eyes and forced himself to stay quiet because Cas seemed to be on a roll here and looked like he needed to get all of this out. Dean had a second of reprieve to wonder if Cas had planned this entire monologue for him, but couldn’t comment; it was near impossible to do anything at all but listen.

“You told me jokes to make me laugh. You helped me choose clothes, and toiletries, and plants for my garden. You gave me a garden, Dean, and you carved me a beautiful, beautiful bench by hand,” Cas closed his eyes for a moment and Dean could tell he was trying to compose himself. The realization was yet another stab to his gut; Dean folded his arms around himself as though he was holding himself together.

“You cooked me your mother’s soup when I was sick. You bought me tea and candles to help me sleep. And you may have shown anger when Sam pointed it out to you, but you do touch me. All the time. Wherever we are. And you let me do the same to you, to offer you comfort when you need it, even if you would never acknowledge it like that. What other conclusion would I have come to, Dean?”

The pleading for answers in Cas’ voice had Dean choking up all over again, and he didn’t hold back the sob when it forced its way out of his throat.

“Cas—”

“Tell me it meant nothing to you, Dean. Tell me that… that you didn’t seek me out for comfort as much as you offered comfort to me. Tell me, Dean,” Cas commanded, and Dean couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would help.

“Cas… you… when you say it like that, I can—I can understand why maybe you’d think… why you’d interpret it in—in that way, but… but—”

“You let me drive your car, Dean,”

“I—”

“And we were often mistaken for a couple; how many times did you not correct people for that error?”

“But—”

“You flirted with me, Dean,” Cas swallowed hard around the words, closing his eyes briefly. “Several times when we have been out together, you did. You flirted with me. And… numerous times you have hinted that… that you find me attractive,”

Dean’s cheeks flared again and their color seemed to be personally offensive to Cas, as though Dean’s embarrassment at his words was a personal slight on him.

Dean tried and failed words to justify his actions, to show where Cas had got it wrong, how other people had too. But he couldn’t; everything was stuck in his throat, along with a hundred whispered voices suggesting things to him that he couldn’t even begin to process.

Instead, Dean made a failed attempt at lashing out himself. “If you—if you honestly thought we were together like that. If you… if you seriously believed that we were… that we were in a relationship. How come… how come you never once tried anything physical with me, huh? Not a—a kiss, or—or—”

“I assumed, wrongly, again, that that would happen when it was meant to happen. If at all,”

“Cas,” Dean said in a huff, shaking his head, “You know me. You know—you gotta know if I was in… if I was in a situation when I could get sex on tap, you don’t think I woulda gone for it by now?”

“Dean,” Cas said, with tired patience, “You have not had sex with anyone since long before I fell. I… I assumed you were adjusting to the thought of… of your sexual partner being male. I assumed … I thought that what we had was enough for you in the interim,”

“You think it’d bother me if the person I cared about was male or not?” Dean bit out, again shouting at himself internally for saying words so very different from what he had been planning on saying out loud. And how the hell had Cas kept track on his (lack of) sex life? And... why?

“I—”

“And if, for a second, you maybe thought we were already together, why the hell did you all but encourage me to go off with other people, or… or say nothing when I flirted with ‘em, huh? What kinda—what kind of a person do you think I am who would openly cheat—who would ever cheat on the person I was with, huh, Cas? What kind of a dick do you think I am?” Rage worked its way through Dean then, although a small voice reminded him that Cas had never had seemed overly happy at all when he had either suggested Dean go off with someone else, or watched as Dean had flirted. He forced it away again, dismissing it, squaring his shoulders as his anger dropped away again as quickly as it had come.

“Dean, I—”

Dean shook his head at Cas’ confusion, shaking it away with a wave of his hand. “You shoulda said something, Cas,” he said softly then, briefly closing his eyes and sighing. “You shoulda—you shoulda said a lot of things,”

“As should have you,” Cas replied, thoroughly dejected though sounding so very exasperated with himself. “I admit that I was enjoying our time together too much to… to push things. To… ask questions that would… that would have likely pushed you away. As you now have been,”

“You haven’t pushed me away, Cas,” Dean said, shaking his head adamantly. “You haven’t. It’s just… it’s just not… not like that, you know? I mean, I care about you, yeah, and—and I want you around, and I miss you when you’re gone, but—”

“Tell me you feel nothing more for me than friendship, Dean,” Cas demanded then, staring at him as though daring him to not answer. “Tell me that I have been utterly, thoroughly mistaken. Tell me, and I will accept it. I will come back to the bunker this instant, push away these… feelings that I have for you, and—and learn to be your friend all over again. Tell me, Dean,”

Dean’s heart thrummed loudly again, desperate to seize on the opportunity presented, to take the offer in front of him to make everything right again, to get back to normal.

“We’re friends, Cas,” Dean stuttered out in a false start, pleading with Cas with his eyes since he couldn’t do much but fumble over his own words.

“Yes,” Cas agreed, nodding primly. “Yes, we are friends. We have always been friends, and I hope… I hope once we are past this we will continue to be friends,”

“‘Course we—”

“Tell me it isn’t more than that,” Cas demanded yet again, making Dean’s head spin. “Tell me I do not mean more to you than comrade, or brother, or… more than a friend, Dean. Tell me,”

“I—”

But Dean’s voice failed him, when he’d been given the easiest of tasks asked of him. A few short words and this would all be over, everything would be okay again, and they could move forward.

“Tell me you care for me as nothing more than your friend, Dean. Tell me that the sacrifices you have made… the lengths you have gone to… the things you have done for me, are not the actions of someone… someone who… who loves … cares more than that. Tell me, Dean,”

“Cas,” Dean tried, the word soft and small and sounding even to himself like something so much bigger and more complex than a simple name.

“Dean,”

“I—” but the words stuck on Dean’s tongue, unwilling to be spoken and refusing to be formed into any kind of sense.

Cas watched him carefully for several moments then visibly pulled back from him, laughing coldly.

“Then I truly have been mistaken,”

“I—”

“I apologize again, Dean. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. If we are not even friends enough for you to—”

“Cas,” Dean shouted desperately, rapidly shaking his head. “I—”

“I would like for you to leave,”

Dean sucked in a breath at Cas’ dismissal, wrapping his fingers tightly around the chair for support.

“Now,” Cas insisted, calmly standing and rearranging himself against the headboard and picking up his tablet. Dean watched the way he tried to keep it steady on his lap, the way his fingers shook around it and the way his jaw trembled even as he fought with it not to.

“Leave, Dean,”

As if moving in slow motion Dean dragged himself to his feet, quietly returned the chair to the desk and silently let himself out, wincing at the anguished, broken sob he heard the second he pulled the door closed behind him, and he was reminded of how thick that door was between them, and therefore how very loud Cas' cry must have been.

With heavy feet Dean walked himself back to the car, slid into the driver’s seat, sat still for several minutes before he could even bring himself to drive. The inside of his head was somehow both whisper quiet and jarringly loud; Dean managed to drive three blocks before he had to pull over and the second he was parked he let out his own agonized wail of frustration, slumping hard against the steering wheel.

* * *

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Blue sky above, nothing but highway below, and a landscape either side of him that was practically unchanging for mile upon rolling mile.

That was all Dean needed right now, he told himself, resting his driving arm on the open window frame and the other reaching out to crank up the volume a little higher, then tapping out the rhythm with his thumb against his leg.

The music wasn’t loud enough, and neither was the roar of the engine no matter how hard he floored it. Nothing could chase away Cas’ words, Dean’s own whispering memories, and the wall of confusion that slammed into him repeatedly just made him inch down the accelerator even further.

Cas thought they were in a relationship. Cas thought that their relationship was one that was something way beyond friendship. Cas thought that somehow, beyond any of Dean’s understanding or belief, that he was in _love_ with _Dean_. That Dean might even have similar feelings back for _him_.

Honestly, Dean huffed to himself, looking across at the empty passenger seat and the small smile on his face dropping immediately when he remembered it was empty and he was alone. Honestly, he thought to himself, this sounded like something out of some trashy romance novel. Except that this wasn’t any work of fiction, this was his very real life, with this very real, very big problem that he was clueless how to solve.

Why would Cas, this one time all-powerful being be in love with this tiny insignificant mess of a human that was himself?

Dean frowned at himself for the question; surely there was a lot more to think about here than _that._ But the question played on Dean’s mind whether he thought it was relevant or not; in fact he couldn’t help thinking it. Why would Cas ever even consider it, when there had to be so many other, better choices available to him?

Easing off the accelerator a little when he glanced down and noticed his speed, Dean rolled his shoulders against the tension held there and grimaced, all this empty space around him suddenly feeling stifling.

What was that Cas had said about thinking the reason Dean hadn’t had sex in... god knows how long now he actually thought about it, was because he was adjusting to the idea of being with a _guy_?

Dean huffed at that because, newsflash, that ship had already sailed a long time ago. Just because it was easier to pick up women since they didn’t turn him into a fumbling idiot every time he tried to speak with them, that didn’t mean he’d never _been_ with a man before. Several, actually. It wasn’t anything he was ashamed of either: he might have allowed the persona of being a ladies man to be the mask he hid behind, but it was like anything else with hunting—playing a role, fitting in, doing what you had to do to get the job done.

Sam knew, of course, and Sam, of course, couldn’t care less either way. He would still smirk at Dean for stumbling in late, whether it was with lipstick smeared on his cheek or stubble rash scraped against his chin. Dean wondered then why Cas was under the impression he’d have any need _to_ adjust to the idea. Didn’t Cas already know everything about him? Couldn’t he already read his mind and find out all he wanted to know for himself?

Dean shifted uncomfortably at that thought, because he should probably be very, very thankful that Cas had long ago promised never to do that without his permission. God knows what he would have stumbled across if he’d seen some of the stuff that went on in there at times, things that would have made this already impossible situation even messier.

Or maybe, Dean wondered to himself, clarity setting in a little brighter for him. Maybe it would be better if Cas _could_ still read his mind; that might fix all this chaos instantly without all of this awfulness they were currently going through.

No, he grimaced then, tightening his grip on the wheel a little harder, that probably wouldn’t help matters at all. Not when even _he_ couldn’t make out the thoughts in his own head.

So Cas thought his current dry spell was because Dean was trying to adjust to something he didn’t need any adjusting to whatsoever. Dean snorted to himself, trying and failing yet again to work out how long it had actually been since he’d last been with anyone. Somehow, lately that had been far from his mind, too preoccupied with hunting and getting Cas _adjusted_ to being human. _That’s_ all that was about, and there was nothing else to it.

Nothing else at all.

Cas was somehow correct in saying that the reason he hadn’t had sex for a while was because of him was right, then, Dean laughed, even if it wasn’t quite in the way Cas was thinking it. But, Dean thought then, surprising himself, he didn’t even _want_ it. The thought of going and finding someone random to sleep with right now felt like he’d be trying to pointlessly prove himself, and far, far too much effort, he realized, filling the car with a resounding,  _huh_ at the thought.

 _Maybe I’m just getting old_ , Dean mused, but shook that thought immediately from his mind and cleared his throat.

Images of Cas flooded him again then. Cas with his permanently on end hair. Cas with his ridiculous eyes that pinned him in place and made Dean feel both lost and found at the same time. Cas with his newly acquired habit of walking back from the shower to his room in nothing but a towel, Cas gardening shirtless when he got too hot, Cas shyly trying on shirt after shirt with each and every one of them being the perfect fit.

Grimacing at himself, Dean shook his head. Okay sure, he wasn’t blind, of course he’d noticed Cas was attractive. Of course he’d even told him that a few times; sometimes to cheer him up and raise a smile out of him, sometimes to tease, and sometimes because it was nothing but the truth. It didn’t have to _mean_ anything, and it _didn’t_ mean anything, not a thing at all.

Further images came to Dean then, leaving him shifting with discomfort in his seat. Thoughts that were had in the secret of the night after the loosening of his hold on them with liquor, or after passing weeks when Cas hadn’t been around at all and Dean could acknowledge to himself just how much he was missing him.

So perhaps back when Cas had been _angel_ , Dean might’ve, once in a while, from time to time, _thought_ about what it might be like to be _with_ Cas. But that was purely curiosity, appreciation of an incredibly attractive man who was so far out of Dean’s league it was almost blasphemy that Dean had allowed himself to think of Cas at all like that whilst touching himself.

Who knew; maybe that really _was_ blasphemous, fantasizing about an angel like that, he thought to himself with a short huff. Dean didn’t exactly remember reading that specifically in the bible but then neither did he remember not reading it. Either way, the moment Cas had become human those thoughts had just disappeared, or rather, Dean realized, shifting uncomfortably once more with the honesty, he’d pushed them to one side, acted like they’d never even happened in the first place. Despite how frequent they had become.

It was wrong to have those kinds of thoughts about someone who was literally beginning to feel their way in the world, Dean told himself. And besides; that he might have had such passing thoughts didn’t have to mean anything either. Anyone could have passing thoughts about anyone else, maybe even let their faces drift into their fantasies whilst they got themselves some relief; it didn’t have to mean what Dean’s mind was insistent on implying.

Dean tried to force up the volume on the tape deck a little more and frowned when he realized it couldn’t go any higher.

Sighing out loud, Dean shifted yet again, frowning because the Impala was in this moment at least so very uncomfortable. A thought occurred to him that perhaps it was less the car but more his own skin he was uncomfortable in currently, but that thought was batted away as well and dismissed along with all the others, although that task itself was becoming harder and harder to manage. Dean had the distinct impression that when all those thoughts started pressing back at him and demanding his attention, he was going to be floored. Dean cleared his throat unnecessarily, and pushed that thought away as well.

Another few miles out and Dean’s eyes were growing wide, and his hand reaching out of its own volition to turn the music off altogether. More images started playing for Dean then, feeling like the crescent of waves that just kept on rolling in, inundating him one after another and not giving him time to come up for air in between them.

Cas, looking lost and broken and Dean reaching out instinctively to wrap his arms around him.

Cas, thrashing around his bed and whimpering at nightmares, only for Dean to crawl in beside him and hold him close.

Cas, triumphantly winning his first game of Star Wars Monopoly and looking so utterly pleased with himself Dean was helpless but to pull him in for a hug, dragging him closer so that their chairs were side by side and Cas not actually moving his back when Dean had released his hold on him.

Cas, grinning at one of his lame jokes, even though he knew it was a particularly bad one.

Cas, holding out a spoonful of ice cream for Dean to try at the local fayre in Lawrence with the blazing sun overhead and rolling his eyes at Dean admonishing him for not reapplying more sunblock.

Cas, smiling shyly at him in thanks as Dean reapplied that sunblock _himself_ since Cas seemed so reluctant to do so.

Cas, in the bunker, slowly coming to terms with it being his new home.

Cas, blushing at the thought of people finding him attractive and the surge of anger— _jealousy_ , Dean realized then, astonished—that Dean felt every damn time someone did notice.

Cas, falling asleep with a book in his hand and Dean thinking just how adorable he looked as he did, watching for several minutes before gently removing the book from his fingers, covering him with a blanket and sinking down on the sofa opposite, just watching him sleep for a while before realising he’d abandoned the book in his own hands.

Cas, smiling at him warmly as Dean sat down beside him pressing back against his heat, with them sitting together to wait for Sam to come back from interviewing despite there being several empty seats in the waiting room.

Cas, so overwhelmed with gratitude as he smoothed his hands over the bench Dean had spent _days_ making in secret whenever he got a free minute—and sometimes even when he didn’t, and the way he’d wrapped his arms around Dean wordlessly for it, breathing out soft and steady against him.

 _Cas_.

Holy _shit_ , Dean thought to himself, swerving the car to the side of the road and braking instantly, his breathing hard and labored. It took a good few minutes for Dean’s vision to clear enough for him to resume driving, and when he did, it was lucky that he was used to driving on autopilot, because there was no room in his head for thinking about anything at all but Cas.

Okay, he acknowledged to himself, taking a deep breath. So there was every possibility that he did, in fact, feel _something_ for Cas.

Some _thing_ , his mind seethed at him, hissing almost at his inner frustration at himself for being the last one to know about this. And then another blast of clarity that had Dean clutching the steering wheel impossibly tighter. Because if he was being _honest_ with himself, which was a painful enough thing to do for almost any aspect of his life. If he was _honest_ , he’d known about his feelings for Cas for a long, long time now. Maybe even just as long as Cas had apparently had feelings for _him_.

Tentatively letting his mind wander, Dean ghosted over memories as though he was turning rusted locks in doors that he’d long slammed closed, of times in the past when he had thought of Cas in ways that were way beyond mere friendship. Of the times he’d forced every passing thought of Cas away, scolded him for being too close, for saying things that were too close to intimate, and too _caring_ for Dean to be able to handle. Of scolding _himself_ for caring about Cas in so many, many ways over the years that the denial had just become second nature to him, until he’d reached this point where he had almost completely fooled himself.

No wonder Cas had thought they were already in a relationship when every one of Dean’s actions had been as though they were. And Dean had been near oblivious to all of it; every touch, every thought, every feeling. Telling himself to put it all down to _helping_ Cas, when he would most need to be helped, to _being_ there for him.

Because, Dean thought, sitting up a little straighter as yet more realizations rolled over him, caring for Cas, caring _about_ Cas was just second nature to him. Giving Cas what he needed, doing the things he knew would make Cas happy; these were instinctual things for him to just _do_. He did each and every one of them without even thinking, as though there was no effort involved, and no resistance in him not to do all he could to _give_ Cas all he could.

“‘It’s just what I do,” Dean protested out loud to himself, squaring his shoulders. Because that was true as well. Sam, Charlie, Bobby, Donna, Jody, Claire, Ellen, Jo… the list could go on to include every passing acquaintance, every person they’d helped on a case, every time he’d stopped to walk some old lady across a street or to quietly slide money into a homeless man’s cup. It’s what he did, what he’d always done—even if it meant he himself going without. All but raising Sam himself had nurtured that instinct to care for and protect people from a young age and made it second nature; all he did for Cas was no different from what he did—and would do—for anyone else that was close to him.

 _Altruistic bastard_ , sneered up a voice in Dean’s mind then causing him to actually flinch. It was rare, incredibly rare for Alastair’s voice to come back to him these days, rarer even than the surfacing of memories of his time in hell that had at one point been the constant landscape to his every waking thought and every attempt at sleeping.

There was truth to the sneer though, Dean realized, sagging. Because as much as he did all that he did for Cas, he couldn’t deny that some of it—a lot of it, wasn’t purely for himself as well. He might have lashed out and reacted badly, igniting this whole situation because Sam had pointed out just how much he touched Cas. But he _needed_ that touch, craved it, sought comfort not only from feeling Cas living and breathing right there next to him, but also the buzz of connection, of the flood of calmness and feeling of _right_ he got every single time from wrapping an arm around him, bumping and pressing their shoulders together, lingering a hand along his arm.

 _And his cheek_ , another voice piped up, though Dean couldn’t identify the speaker. It was a valid point though; since that first _nice peach fuzz_ back in Purgatory and on every single occasion since, there was a lot that was reassuring about the heat of Cas’ face against his skin, Cas’ stubble scratching his palm. In short, Dean didn’t reach out to Cas only to offer _him_ comfort; touching Cas in any of these ways reassured and gave himself comfort as well.

In fact, Dean thought, his head bumping back against the seat with a groan, it wasn’t even as one-sided as Dean was trying to make out to himself.

Cas, slumping down beside him on the sofa and leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder, settling in without a word after Dean had gone quiet following a difficult hunt.

Cas, bumping his forehead against Dean’s shoulder and pressing up against him bodily for a short moment before stepping away with a smile and continuing with whatever it was he had been doing.

Cas, wincing and mumbling apologies as he helped Dean clean out a cut on his back he couldn’t reach for himself, and the entire time Cas’ hand being pressed into his side, squeezing softly in reassurance.

Cas, wrapping his hand tight around Dean’s forearm and holding him back, glaring at the kid whizzing past on a skateboard just seconds away from knocking into him.

Cas, gently stroking through Dean’s hair as he inspected a bump there from when Dean had fallen after giving chase on a hunt, and continuing to run his fingers there as Dean had nuzzled back against the touch mumbling in approval.

Cas, hands around his waist and physically shifting him when Dean pretended he wouldn’t let him get to the fridge.

Cas, fighting against smiling and wrapping an arm around him, pulling him in for a brief hug as Dean grumbled after the teenagers who’d called him an old man at the grocery store. They weren’t to know he was bending and standing up stiffly and groaning from picking up something from a lower shelf because he’d spent the previous day being slammed violently against a wall by a vampire, but still. It had stung.

Cas, placing a sympathetic hand over Dean’s after a fight with Sam.

Cas, nudging against his shoulder with a pointed look, telling him to go and _apologize_ to Sam, then looking at him with utter pride when he did just that.

 _Cas_.

Holy _hell_ , Dean thought to himself then, eyes darting out frantically for somewhere to pull into, and fast.

A few miles further and Dean was slinging the Impala almost carelessly into a parking space outside a roadside diner that immediately conjured up the memory of listening in on a conversation between waitresses that had ended up being about him and Cas. Growling to himself he stepped out and slammed the car door shut, stomped into the diner and threw himself into a booth, barking out his order for black coffee and cursing himself for that as well as everything else.

“Sorry,” he mumbled moments later to the returning waitress with a mug in her hand and a steaming jug of coffee. The waitress shrugged, smiling back easily as she poured.

“Not the first—or last guy to come in here with a face like thunder and take it out on the first human contact they come across,”

Dean breathed out sharply and winced, half-glancing up at her and feeling thoroughly chastised by his outburst.

“Sorry,” he said again, squirming with embarrassment.

“Yeah, you said that,” she smiled, nodding at the menu. “Gonna eat something? Eat your way out of your foul mood?”

Pulling the menu across the table and in front of him though feeling like he would never have an appetite again, Dean pointed at something involving eggs and bacon, and tapped his finger there twice.

“Gonna need me to cut it up into pieces like I do with my four-year-old, or are we over our temper tantrum now?” The waitress said shrewdly, before her face twisted up into laughter at Dean’s obvious discomfort.

“Just messing with you,” she assured him, still grinning, “Be right out,”

Dean watched her walk away, half-thankful for the distraction of the teasing but overall kind words, but now that he was alone again Cas came slamming back into his thoughts as though he was there with him physically and punching him in the gut.

That might be better, Dean grumbled to himself, if Cas had physically hit out at him instead of cutting him deep with every pained look, every sad stare, every obvious indication that he was so thoroughly wounded by Dean’s behavior.

 _Cas_ , Dean thought, sinking deeper into the seat with his own dejection feeling so utterly and thoroughly lost.

Dean had a fleeting memory then of wandering around a store with Cas helping him choose clothes, insisting they buy him some decent quality stuff instead of picking up whatever they could grab in passing. Charlie’s expertise with credit cards meant it had been a long, long time since any of them had been wanting for anything, but Dean felt it was somehow important to splash out a bit on Cas, get him some nicer stuff, because, Dean remembered reasoning with himself at the time, Cas had never had stuff of his own.

Dean had helped him choose some things, enthusiastic with some of Cas’ choices and tactfully dismissive with others, as well as throwing in a few suggestions of his own. When Cas had looked at the racks and piles of jeans in utter bewilderment, Dean remembered very clearly putting down their armfuls of clothes on a nearby display, pushing back the trenchcoat Cas was still insistent on wearing from time to time and really _looking_ at him, telling both Cas and himself he was doing it simply to gauge his size. He’d pressed their _hips_ together so he could work out the _length_ Cas needed for his jeans, and _god;_  he’d even slotted his finger into the gap at the back of Cas’ jeans to show him just how big they were on him, that he needed a different size. Dean colored now at the obvious gesture, how obviously it could be interpreted as flirting, as so many things, how obviously it could look like they were well and truly already a couple.

Perhaps, Dean allowed then to himself, it was only natural that the sales assistant had acted the way she had with them then, smiling at Dean knowingly as though she _knew_ was he was thinking—and Dean remembered now carefully ignoring the way his heart fluttered thinking about being so close to Cas like that, and about Cas being a few feet away from him behind a flimsy curtain getting changed. Dean did remember though now, clear as anything, his swell of anger at the way she had openly leered over Cas as though he was something edible and _for the taking_.

Dean sat up sharp at that; because jealousy had been the thing flaring through him even then.

The waitress helpfully interrupted Dean’s thought then with the return of his order, smiling at him without saying a single word as she slid the plate down in front of him. He mumbled his thanks at her and raised his knife and fork, viewing the food as something of a challenge because he couldn’t imagine currently managing to put anything in his stomach that wouldn’t come straight back out again.

Immediately his mind flew to a time when Cas had been sick, of his distressed, pleading look up at Dean from curled over the toilet bowl before another wave of nausea hit him and he was retching all over again. Dean remembered stroking circles into Cas’ back, bringing him a towel to kneel on when it looked like he was going to be there for some time, shakily helping him stand, holding him up as he brushed his teeth, and guiding him back to bed when Dean was sure that he had finished.

Dean remembered Cas vowing never to eat kabob again, and Dean sliding into the bed with him, throwing an arm around him and promising to strike kabob off of the list of foods for him to try. He remembered Cas settling back against him and winding their fingers together delicately over his stomach, and he distinctly remembered pressing his nose into the back of Cas’ hair.

Dean forced himself through his meal then, every mouthful feeling impossible to swallow, but doing it all the same, using the time to try to think things through more, arguing and counterarguing with himself continually.

Now that Dean was allowing himself to really, honestly think about Cas, it was as though he was viewing his every recent action through new eyes. Cas was right about so many things, and one thing sticking in his mind in that moment was how Dean rarely, if ever, corrected anyone who mistook them for being a couple. Even when it had just been Dean and Sam on their own and somehow Cas had come into the conversation. That herb store own hadn’t been the first to assume Dean was talking about a _boyfriend_ , Dean laughed humourlessly to himself at the memory, because he sure hadn’t been the last either. Dean talked about Cas a _lot_ when they weren’t together; no wonder people so often got the wrong idea.

Or the _right_ one, his mind suggested; Dean swallowed the last mouthful of food with difficulty and pushed the plate firmly away from him, surprised to find he’d managed to finish it all.

Because now he was allowing himself to think freely his mind was working on overtime. An onslaught of memories hit and overlay each other in his thoughts, so many that it was hard to determine one from the other. Until one flared up, larger than the others, making Dean’s breath catch and his hands reach out to grip hard around the table edge, pressing back hard against the booth wall as he stared out unseeing.

When Cas had broken down after that hell of a week when he’d dislocated his shoulder and he’d had a ton of other things go wrong that just mounted up to be too much for him, Dean had been frantic with worry. The way he’d slumped in Dean’s arms, the way his heart had thrumbed hard enough for Dean to be able to feel it against his own chest as he held him, the way his eyes had looked so desperate, so hopeless, so empty. All had added up to Dean clutching at straws, scrabbling for solutions, needing to do _something_ to make Cas feel better.

That had led to the first of many nights of Cas sleeping in his bed, and that first one had been both the most easy and the most difficult for him. Easy, because the way Cas had just slotted into Dean’s daily life as though he had always been a part of it meant they’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep together as though they’d done it a hundred times before. They had, of course, in Cas’ room, but there was something significant about it being in his own room. And that of course was where the difficulty came in.

It was in his own bed that Dean had allowed himself to think of Cas in ways entirely not-friendly on so many occasions when Cas had still been an angel. It was in his own bed that the thoughts he had about Cas, about how important he was to him, about how much he needed him, about how much he _wanted_ him—all of him; it was here that those thoughts were very rarely allowed to slip out as though cherished stones kept in a secret pocket, brought out and stroked over feeling the slight imperfections there as well as familiar reassurance, cold beneath his fingertips and slowly warming to his own touch.

Waking up with Cas in his arms, then, had been high on his fantasy list many times; jarring against his typical desires for him that were usually a lot more sinful. Cas brought out this nurturing side to him. Wanting to wake up beside him stirred something deep and hidden even further inside Dean that he’d always tried to keep dormant. Needing someone like that, wanting them, having a relationship with them that was rounded, not just about sex, or about satisfying that in-the-moment need. Wanting to be with someone like that, to be with _Cas_ like that, to have all those things Dean had denied forever that he ever even thought about wanting.

Naturally, waking up with Cas in his arms, his imagination had wandered to exactly that. To waking up every morning with Cas just like that, safe, content, happy. Able to go about whatever horrors his normal day would throw at him safe in the knowledge that he had _this_ , if nothing else. Maybe even thinking about an _after_ hunting with him, about a home that wasn’t a bunker, about living a life that was just for them, about—

Dean remembered, clear as anything, those thoughts escalating and having to snap himself back to reality. About pulling back from Cas though attempting to do it without showing any sharpness, about the confusion in Cas’ eyes as he’d rolled over. Because they both knew there had been many sleepy mornings between the two of them in Cas’ bed, where they’d laid curled into one another talking about everything and nothing, enjoying the comfort that was being in each other’s arms and simply passing the time, being together.

Charlie’s voice, out of nowhere or perhaps whispering sense at him all this time taunted _that’s no moon, it’s a space station_ at him, and Dean found himself gulping for air.

White noise assaulted Dean then, a low, whirring buzz that made him dizzy in his seat as everything connected together and formed a picture that was as bright and clear as it was obvious.

Cas thought they were in a relationship. Cas _knew_ they were in a relationship, Dean amended, his eyebrows hitching a touch higher as though they really had any higher to go. Cas really _was_ in love with him, and Dean, well. He was just as much in love with him back.

Dean sat there for several minutes blinking stupidly, gulping in air, clenching and unclenching his fists in tight balls there against the table thinking just one thing.

Holy _fuck_.

* * *

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Sam, Dean thought when his brain unseized and started functioning again.

As if he hadn’t tormented himself enough, all of Sam’s words over the past few days flew at him then, wickedly twisted and harsher than the ones Sam had ever really said to him but still, exactly as Dean thought he should be hearing them right now.

Sam, who would be so much within his right to say I told you so yet wouldn’t and in not doing would make Dean feel guilt a thousand times stronger. Sam, who had probably seen this coming, had long likely hoped Dean would finally come to his senses about the things Dean had been in denial about for so long. Sam, who had seen all of what had been between he and Cas, and had said nothing. No heads up warning that they seemed too close, no questioning of what Dean was really thinking; nothing to show anything was out of the ordinary at all.

Although, Dean reminded himself before he could pass even a tiny portion of the blame elsewhere just to make himself feel temporarily better, had Sam said anything, he would just have shouted him down, stormed off on him or something. In fact, exactly as Dean had already just done.

Dean pressed his hand over his mouth for a second then slid it away, all but running to the counter and paying quickly with a larger tip than normal and making a hasty exit before the waitress could make any comments that might make him feel even more stupid than he already did in that moment.s

Back in the car Dean dialled Sam’s number, silently pleading with him to pick up. When he did Dean felt himself sag in relief; there wasn’t really much Sam could do about the situation he’d found himself in, but his voice was still like an anchor, tethering Dean to the knowledge that if he did need to reach out for someone, for srome support, then he could do just that with him.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said tiredly, wondering how many seconds it would take Sam to pick up that something was wrong.

“What happened?” was Sam’s immediate response; Dean allowed himself a smirk at that at least then slumped his head back hard against the seat, taking a few seconds to organise his words.

“How’s it going?”

“Dean,” Sam managed to make his name sound like a scold that had Dean’s eyes closing.

“I mean it. How’s it going? How long ‘fore you’ll be back?”

“What happened?” Sam demanded this time; Dean hated the panic he’d put there in Sam’s voice and grimaced at it to himself.

“Nothing,” Dean said, because really, that was kind of honest. Nothing had happened, really, aside from him finally catching up with what the rest of the world around him seemed to already know. “Nothing. Just, uh… just been thinking. Could probably do with sounding some things out,”

“I’ll start heading back now,” Sam said, and Dean could already hear him rustling about like he was getting his stuff together.

“Wait, Sam, just—wait. How’s it going there? Seriously. Anything going on?”

“Well there’s—there’s something here,” Sam relented after a moment, sighing hard. “Been a couple more sightings, couple of strange symbols in some kids’ playground. But no more dead bodies’ve shown up yet, so… that’s something at least,”

“So you should stay,” Dean said, being nothing but sincere about it but also sinking in disappointment. If he didn’t open up about this revelation of his now he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to do it again, and where would that leave him? Or any of them?

“No, it’s fine. Jody and Donna’ll keep an eye out for now. They can call if anything else comes up and maybe—maybe we can head back down here if we’re needed. Maybe the three of us...”

“Sam,” Dean said, shaking his head, though appreciating Sam’s optimism about being able to convince Cas to come along, “‘s pointless you coming all the way back here just to turn around again and go back."

“Maybe,” Sam said sounding full of doubt. “But if you need me…”

Sam didn’t finish his sentence because he didn’t have to, and Dean felt better already just for knowing Sam really would drop anything to come to him if he asked him to.

“Look,” Dean said, sitting up a little straighter, thinking. “I’m… I’m ‘bout two hours out from you—”

“So come here, then. Jody and Donna’d love to see you,”

Dean closed his eyes, the thought of so many people around him when he was so very raw was suffocating.

“How ‘bout—how’d you feel about driving for an hour, meeting me halfway? You can be back by—” Dean shucked his wrist so he could see his watch, groaning a little at how it was already late afternoon yet it still felt like an age had passed since he’d left Cas mid-morning.

“Fine with me. Give me a when and where,” Sam said, not even waiting for him to finish. Dean looked back up at the diner and grimaced, shaking his head at himself.

“I guess… head for Sioux City. That’s kinda midway. I’ll message you when I—”

“Got it. Setting off in five. It’ll… it’ll be okay, Dean,”

Dean smiled at the belief in Sam’s voice and felt a rush of tears that he instantly blinked away. “Thanks, Sammy,”

Sam mumbled a goodbye into the phone and ended the call, leaving Dean to stare down blankly at the screen for a few more seconds before composing himself enough to leave.

* * *

There was a word scratching away at the back of Dean’s mind for the entire ride up to meet Sam. He couldn’t put his finger on it; not when his mind was so full of Cas, Cas, Cas and his emotions jolted and jarred so much that he couldn’t even keep up with them. But when he sat down on his bar stool and the first pull of beer he took felt like acid on his tongue, Dean worked it out.

Vulnerable.

That was exactly how he was feeling now, he realized, vulnerable, open and so very raw, as though his very skin had been peeled back to let all of his realizations bead up and rise to the surface. Everything bristled around him; clothes too tight, air too thick, ground too solid. Dean felt himself slump with relief when Sam entered the bar and sought him out, Sam’s own face easing when his eyes landed on Dean’s.

“Hey,” Sam said, cautious though easy, gesturing to the barman to bring him one of what Dean was having.

“Hey,” Dean replied, smiling as gratefully as his inner turmoil would allow him. “Thanks for coming down here, man,”

“No problem,” was Sam’s easy, obvious reply. “So. Tell me,”

Dean hadn’t given any thought to how he was going to word this. And now Sam was sat here in front of him, he was even more at a loss for what to say. There were about three seconds when he debated laughing it off, pretending everything was fine and that nothing had happened whatsoever, but Dean didn’t need Sam’s patient look to tell him he needed to get this out, and now.

“I messed up, Sammy,”

“Okay,”

“I…” Dean tried, full of doubt. How was he supposed to begin this? Where the hell could he even start?

“So it turns out,” he tried, taking another sip of his beer for courage and still barely able to taste anything good in it, “It turns out…”

Dean raised his eyes to Sam seeing the calmness there, the expression that said he probably would accept anything Dean was about to say, and wouldn’t judge him even if he didn’t.

“I…” and Dean paused again, because once this was out, it was out. There was no way of stuffing it back down and pretending otherwise; this would be it.

Dean swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe. Sam deserved the honesty here, and Cas, well. Cas deserved everything, so much more than Dean thought he could ever possibly give him.

“I love him, Sam,”

That white noise came back to Dean then, making him feel swaddled in a bubble and like the rest of the world besides him and Sam had dropped away from him the second those words had come out of his mouth.

Sam’s eyes opened a fraction wider and his bottle slipped from his grip to thunk down on the table, and Dean choked out a rapid gasp of laughter, breaking the silence.

In a fit of what he could only describe to himself as hysteria, Dean laughed hard, huge, guffawing peals of laughter that had him shaking, actually crying and have to wipe his eyes, laughing so hard that eventually, he had to take a few long breaths to calm himself down.

Sam, helpless but to confusedly join in with Dean’s outburst, looked across the table at him in solidarity, also wiping his eyes, bursting into fresh laughter every time Dean hiccupped another peal out and set him off all over again.

“Wow,” Dean said with a final wipe of his eyes, more to himself than to Sam, “Man, I didn’t even… I didn’t even know I could say that out loud. What kinda a moron am I?”

“I think you can give yourself a little more credit than that, Dean,” Sam replied, and though his face was still full of surprise at Dean’s words, and still red from all that laughing, the expression there was nothing but happy.

Dean went to take another sip of beer then paused to answer with, “Don’t know about that, but…”

“You do,” Sam insisted, emphasizing the words hard so there was no doubt in Dean’s mind that he meant them.

The laughter now died down, the mood between them became muted, a touch more serious, and Dean felt himself wanting to retreat inside himself all over again.

“Man, I’m a mess,” Dean blurted out then, his throat constricting and tears pricking at his eyes in an instant.

“Hey,” Sam called softly, shaking his head. “Don’t do that. You’re not, okay? You… maybe you’ve got a bit to deal with right now, but—”

“You’ve been tryna tell me that for days,” Dean sighed, sinking back in his seat.

“You know now. ‘S all that matters, right?”

Dean thought quietly to himself just how very easy Sam was making this for him when he would be well within his right to not.

“So what happened?” Sam tried when Dean didn’t answer him. “You don’t—you don’t have to give me specifics if you don’t want, but—”

“Just been thinking ‘s all,” Dean sighed, frowning down at his beer bottle and half-surprised to find himself peeling it. “I… I went to see him this morning,”

“How’s he doing?”

“Better,” Dean nodded then sagged again, grumbling almost to himself. “And worse. Charlie convinced him to go shower and stuff… like… like I can’t believe I’ve got him in such a mess he would even need the prompting to take care of himself like that, but… and… and he hadn’t been tryna drink a liquor store again, which was pretty good to see,”

Sam snorted at the memory Dean’s words conjured up for them both, and Dean allowed the moment to pass, enjoying what he could of it before being swept up in his own doom and gloom once again.

“He’s… he’s hurting something awful though, Sam. And… and I did that. I mean, I sure as hell didn’t mean to, but—”

“So… Look, Dean. What’s done is done, right? Can’t take it back now. I guess it’s just a question of working out how to fix it now,”

“Not that easy, Sam,” Dean shook his head, overwhelmed with doubt.

“Why?”

Finding himself at a loss for words Dean answered with a shrug, and kept his gaze firmly down on the table.

“What—what actually happened?”

“I—we talked a bit,” Dean started, the entire conversation playing back to him perfectly as though he had a recording of it right there with him and they were watching it together. “And… and maybe he pointed out a few things that… that I’ve done that… that made him think we were… that we were—”

“Already together?” Sam finished for him; Dean wondered if it was because he was so obviously struggling with his words.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out, shaking his head.

“You had me wondering at times too, you know,” Sam admitted, smiling and screwing up his face as though to brace for Dean’s anger.

Dean closed his eyes, felt his stomach drop some more. “Yeah. Yeah I guess it might’ve looked like that, huh?”

“A bit,” Sam said, his smile now one that was clearly desperate to hold back on any teasing that automatically wanted to come out.

“A bit?” Dean laughed himself more than a little ruefully.

“Quite a bit,” Sam amended, letting out a snort of laughter. “Seriously, dude. Half the time… half the time I didn't even know where to look just in case,”

Dean groaned, allowing his head to fall forward and automatically dropped his elbows to the table so he could cradle his head in his hands. He shifted then, propping his chin up on his palms and staring back at Sam as though maybe he would have answers that he himself didn’t.

“So now what?”

Sam shook his head. “C’mon. You’re only giving me half the story here,”

“Like I said,” Dean sighed, sitting back up again, “He—he told me some stuff. And then he—then he told me to leave,”

“Oh…”

“Actually,” Dean snorted, closing his eyes, “Before that. Before, he gave me an ultimatum. Not an ultimatum, exactly, more like… more like a choice … a chance for things to be back to normal?”

“Oh?" Sam repeated, leaning forward a little.

“He said,” Dean sighed out again, shaking his head, “He said … he said that… that if I could honestly tell him I didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend, then he’d… then he’d come back to the bunker, like, right that minute, and we’d start over. Act like this whole thing never happened,”

“And?” Sam asked, sounding as though he was holding his breath.

“And I couldn’t, okay? I—I couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t make myself say ‘em. I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it, Sam,”

“So…” Sam prompted, when Dean couldn’t force himself to get any more words out.

“And… and ‘cos I sat there dumb, and didn’t say anything—anything at all, he… he kicked me out,” Dean laughed to start with but it was bit out in the middle with a sob he hadn’t even consciously felt working its way up.

Sam’s eyes grew wide in alarm, and Dean had a moment of laughing to himself that maybe Sam was better at comforting strangers than his own brother. That Sam was less spooked by crying witnesses than he was by his big brother falling apart in front of him. It figured, he thought, since Dean so rarely allowed himself to do that. But with Cas, Dean thought, his heart hurting all over again, he didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Dean…” Sam tried, voice as soft as Dean had heard it a hundred times before with those witnesses, and he felt as though his skull was caving in.

“So I left,” Dean pushed on, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. “I drove for a couple of hours, and… and what he’d said kinda played over for me, you know? And… and I realized… I realized that…. That all this time, I—”

But Dean’s words failed him entirely then, leaving them both in silence and unable to find the reassurance either of them needed.

“So,” Sam tried eventually, because Dean didn’t think he had the strength left to restart the conversation himself, “So what now?”

“Now?” Dean repeated, shaking his head. “Now, I… I got, no clue. I mean I… he kicked me out. And I… I deserved it. I do deserve it. I—”

“Aren’t you being a little hard on yourself?” Sam shook his head, refusing to hear what Dean was saying.

“Not even been anywhere near hard enough,”

“C’mon, Dean. It’s not… I mean it’s bad, sure, but it’s… it’s fixable bad, you know?”

“Is it?” Dean snorted, because there was no way he could find himself agreeing with that.

“Dean—”

“Honestly, I don’t see how—”

“You just… you go back, now would be good, and apologise. Say you’ve… say… I don’t know, Dean, you know Cas better than anyone… you’ll… you’ll figure it out,”

Dean smiled, his throat tightening once more. “I think… I think you’re missing the bigger picture here, Sam,”

Sam shook his head looking thoroughly confused. “I… I don’t—”

“He said he loved me, Sam. Said it first. Said it before I even realized I…” Dean squared his shoulders and forced himself to continue. “Said… he said he has… had, for years,”

Sam shrugged, but a smile lingered around his lips as he spoke. “Maybe… maybe the feeling’s been mutual for all this time as well,”

“But how?” Dean asked, shaking his head at Sam’s easy acceptance of it. “And... why?”

With a tiny shake of his head Sam showed he still didn’t understand.

“Why. Why would he love me? Care about me, of all people? I mean, I… I can’t even think the word love without clamming up about it,”

“Yet you’ve said it at least a few times now easy enough,” Sam pointed out, still smiling as though he had utter faith in him. Dean didn’t know how he deserved it.

“And as for _why_ —”

“He can’t, Sam,” Dean shook his head, adamant that he make Sam understand. “I… I got nothing to offer him,”

“Pretty sure you’ve got all he wants you to offer just being you,” Sam countered, screwing his face up instantly with a distasteful grimace that he tried to turn into a smile at the end. “Oh, wow, that’s a really weird-ass thing having to say to your brother. True though,”

Dean shook his head again but managed to smile a little at Sam’s small groan of discomfort that followed.

“Seriously, Dean. If… if he feels like that and—and you feel like that, then why—”

“But I don’t deserve him, Sam,” Dean cut him off immediately, desperate to get Sam to hear him, to really listen.

Sam’s face morphed through confusion, bewilderment, anger and sadness all within the space of a few seconds. “Well that’s bull,”

“It isn’t,” Dean insisted, “It’s—”

“Cut the crap, Dean,” Sam laughed, fixing Dean with a look that told him in no uncertain terms to keep quiet. “You can… you can sit here and say… all kinds of things about—about how weird this is for you, or how… or maybe how much it scares you, ‘cos that’s understandable. I’d—I get that, no question. But if you think for a second I’m gonna sit here and listen to some horseshit about you not being good enough, or—”

“But I’m not,” Dean protested, cursing to himself as the tears in his eyes were now threatening to burst through. “Really I’m not,”

“I’m gonna say this once,” Sam said, in a tone that told Dean to continue to keep quiet, and not to argue. “And you’re not gonna like hearing it, but since we’re sat here being honest and all…”

Dean watched in silence as Sam sighed heavily then rolled his shoulders as though telling Dean he was determined to talk. “I’m… maybe I’m a little biased here ‘cos you’re my brother and all. But you are more than worth it, Dean. I… I hate this opinion you have of yourself, that… that somehow you think I don’t know—like I wouldn’t see straight through all the crap you pull sometimes, pretending you’re… I don’t know, happy with the way things are. I hate… I hate that you don’t trust yourself to even _have_ something like this, that you’d even think you don’t deserve it. You do, Dean. You’re… you guys look good together. Happy. And that’s before you even were together. Properly, anyway,”

“I—”

“And don’t you dare tell me he’s too good for you,” Sam pushed on, waving away Dean’s interruption as though pre-empting his words. “Yeah, Cas is… he’s a good guy, okay? Great, even. But he’s… he’s just as much of a mess as you think you are yourself. You’re… it kinda makes you perfect for each other, actually. And I… I wouldn’t be sat here in the middle of Sioux City in a really seedy-looking bar helping my brother talk about his feelings unless I was absolutely sure of that. Unless I was sure all this would be worth it, if it meant… if it meant maybe you’d be happy. That maybe you’d let yourself have something you want, just for you. Just for once,”

Dean sat there in silence for a few moments, breathing shallow to control the way he felt he was close to either breaking down or, well, no, breaking down in front of Sam. He gripped hard around the table edge and pushed back against it, shaking his head.

“I… I don’t even know how, Sam,” Dean protested, and he didn’t even know what he meant by that. That he didn’t know how to let himself be happy. That he didn’t know how to let himself have something he wanted. That he didn’t know what to do to fix this mess he’d found himself in without losing the one person who had come into his life and he actually wanted to stick around just as much as they wanted to be with him.

Dean sank back a little wide-eyed at that admission, feeling thoroughly worn out by what seemed to have been a day of nothing but admissions and self-revelations. He was exhausted to his very bones by it, but there was absolutely no way he would be getting any sleep any time soon.

“Then you’ll just… make it up as you go. Not the first time you’ve winged something you didn’t know how to handle, right?”

“Stop being so… so reasonable about this, okay? Stop… making it sound so easy,” Dean protested, feeling his heart thudding all over again.

“Why doesn’t it have to be easy?” Sam shrugged, draining his beer and toying with the bottle as though considering another.

“'Cos. ‘cos it’s me. Us. When do we ever get easy that doesn’t go to hell the second we trust it?”

“Maybe you do this time,” Sam’s suggestion seemed so reasonable, and Sam sounded so sure of himself, that tendrils of hope began to weave their way through Dean before he realized what was happening, and he pushed them firmly away again the second he recognized them.

“Can’t,”

“Why not?”

“‘Cos,” Dean insisted, knowing the conversation was spiraling off into nothingness.

“Dean,” and now Sam’s voice was that strange twist of frustrated and bemused that had Dean feeling like the dumbest kid in the classroom. “You know you can actually _have_ this, right? Think about it—you guys have been having it for… well for months now. Ever since he fell in fact,”

Dean burst out laughing again and Sam rolled his eyes, already knowing Dean was deliberately mishearing his words, but relieved to see at least a little spark of Dean being himself in there as well.

“Hey. I assume you haven’t been actually having _that_. ‘Cos if you had been doing and you were still tryna tell me there was nothing going on between you, I’d say you’ve been deluding yourself even more than you think you have,” Sam grinned, as Dean continued to laugh and groan at himself.

“No,” Dean said eventually, shaking his head hard. “No, I’m, uh. I’m pretty sure I’dve noticed—remembered doing that,”

“Gonna tell me you’ve never even thought about it?” Sam teased, making Dean groan all over again.

“Sammy,”

“I’m gonna get me some earplugs—” Sam told the table, though Dean could see the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“Sammy,” Dean protested again, though this time laughing genuinely. Sam’s head came up instantly and the mirth on his face had Dean laughing all over again.

“Yep. Gonna start putting like… mirrors round corners James Bond-style. Make sure you two aren’t… you know—”

“C’mon, man—”

“Closing my eyes every time I enter a room—”

“Hey—”

“Maybe I can be persuaded to make myself scarce for date nights… if the price is right and all that,”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you—”

“Not as much are you’re planning on loving _Cas_ —”

Sam’s singsong voice was the final push, and Dean and Sam both succumbed to howls of laughter so loud that other people in the bar chuntered and muttered under their breath and glared over at them. Which only made things worse; Dean looked up for a moment to find someone staring back at him quizzically and he lost it all over again, curling over his bottle on the table and his sides beginning to ache from laughing so much.

“Seriously,” Sam eventually said after several attempts to gain his composure and a lot of swiping at his tears of laughter so that he could actually see. “It’s… this bit’s gonna be difficult; no one says it isn’t, but… but once you’ve spoken to him—properly, not, not fobbing him off, or whatever—”

“Like I could—would even do that now—”

“Once the hard part’s done,” Sam continued, waving away Dean’s interruption dismissively. “Once that’s done… it’ll be great. Trust me,”

“Having a hard time trusting myself right now,” Dean’s honesty had Sam’s face drop in sadness all over again and make Dean want to take it back, though he wouldn’t.

“Then trust me. It’s… it’s gonna be okay. Better than okay,”

“What if… what if he won’t listen to me?” Dean asked, because that was a real possibility considering the way Cas had brokenly asked him to leave earlier.

“He will. And if he won’t… you’ll find a way to make him listen,” Sam insisted, looking back at Dean so earnestly that hope was flaring up all over again for him.

“And what if it’s not enough? What if it’s too late? What if—”

“It’s been a few hours, Dean. You head back now, you can be there for what… nine? No… ten? Eleven maybe? It’s not… it’s not like he’s gonna be sleeping, Dean,”

“I—”

“And neither will you even if you did head straight back to the bunker,” Sam pushed, seeming to know that Dean needed it right now. “So it’d be pointless doing that. Or going anywhere else. Right?”

“Right,” Dean agreed, with a decisiveness that he didn’t truly feel, with doubts whispering wicked things at him and taunting him about how he dared to think he’d get to be that lucky.

“It’ll work out, Dean. You know it will,”

No, Dean told himself though keeping it in, he didn’t know that. He didn’t know that he wouldn’t arrive at Cas’ hotel door again and find it either slammed in his face or not answered at all. That Cas wouldn’t hear him out and turn him away anyway. He didn’t know anything, anything at all. Apart from that he had to try.

“Okay,” He said then, throwing some money down on the table for their beers and standing.

“Okay,” Sam echoed, mirroring his movements with what looked like the beginnings of a permagrin on his face.

“Let’s do this,”

“Let’s you do this,” Sam amended with another smirk.

“Okay, I’ll go do this,” Dean nodded, his heart racing at the possibility of this really being the situation he had found himself in, and if he was lucky, what the outcome might be.

Sam’s face twitched up into another smirk that Dean couldn’t help be half on guard about.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Sam said, smirking to himself and following Dean outside, taking a wide step away from him before he started cackling.

“What?”

“If I tell you to go get your man, you’re gonna—”

Sam’s laughter rang out in the car park as he sidestepped Dean’s swipe.

“Let… let me know tomorrow how it goes, okay?” Sam said, coming to a stop beside the car he’d taken from the bunker as Dean stood beside the Impala looking back at him a mixture of scared, grateful and hopeful.

“Yeah,”

“Dean,”

Dean looked up at the tone in Sam’s voice, unaware that he’d even let his eyes drop.

“It’s… it’s gonna be okay,”

* * *

Hear me out, Dean began rehearsing for what had to be the tenth time as he sped his way down the highway, keeping a careful check on the road so his speed wasn’t overly noticeable whilst at the same time trying to get back to Cas as soon as was humanly possible.

Hear me out. Because what if Cas wouldn’t hear him out?

Frantically planning a dozen different scenarios, trying to come up with arguments and counter-arguments to any objections or points Cas may or may not make as he tried to second guess the words that Cas hadn’t even yet thought, let alone said, was also exhausting. But it was also invigorating; a fire of anticipation flared through him as the miles ticked down to reaching Cas, making the journey go both slower and faster as the sun began to set.

_I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m an idiot. So, a funny thing happened today, wanna hear it? I’m so, so sorry. Can you forgive me? Can we talk? Can you hear me out? I never meant to hurt you. This is so hard for me but I’m trying here. Please listen to me. Please?_

So many ways to begin a conversation, but how was he to know which was the best one, the right words to use to start? Dean tapped against the steering wheel impatiently, too charged to even think about putting on music in his usual distraction tactics, willing the road to disappear from beneath him even faster than it was already doing.  

What was he actually hoping would happen here, Dean asked himself, looking for an honest answer that might somehow guide him. Dean’s instincts, urges, told him to grab hold of Cas the second he saw him, sweep him up into a hug, to get the relief of touching him before he said anything at all, in the hope that that would ground him, as he somehow already knew it would.

Would Cas even allow that?

What if Cas wouldn’t even open the door, Dean worried then, shaking his head to clear away the thought. Well, he reasoned, straightening himself in the seat with determination and mentally checking over what he had in his wallet. He wasn’t above picking a lock if he had to, and while he’d rather not use such heavy-handed tactics, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t if Cas wasn’t willing.

Which, Dean realized then, berating himself harshly, sounded terrible. He wouldn’t—couldn’t force himself on Cas in anyway. Not physically, or emotionally, or in fact in any way at all. Cas deserved better, and if Dean was going to attempt to fool them both into thinking he was worth Cas’ attention, then well. He was just going to have to do it with good old-fashioned persuasion. Insistent, persevering, yes, but also tactful. Not pushing beyond Cas’ limits and absolutely not doing anything that even _resembled_ forcing.

He could do that. He could do that. Couldn’t he?

If he would just open the door, Dean thought to himself, worrying about that particular hurdle over and over again before even getting to it, as if by getting through that one the rest would somehow be, by comparison, easier.

Although, Dean worried as the thought occurred to him, this time of night, perhaps that reception desk would be the thing that was actually the first true obstacle to getting to Cas. The first that would sniff him out, see him for what he really was, remind him this was someplace that he didn’t belong. Not in a nice hotel, and absolutely not with a person as good as Cas.

A sick feeling sank on him then, but Dean forced himself to swallow it away instead of give in to it. Dean wasn’t above charming his way in and out of a situation if whoever was on the reception needed to be convinced, but in all honesty, if he was ever lucky enough to have Cas forgive him then there wasn’t even a passing chance of him ever wanting to even pretend to flirt with another person. If he was lucky enough to get Cas, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to look at anyone else ever again. Ever being able to bring himself to.

Why would anyone else ever compare to Cas?

Dean smirked at himself, already allowing the thought that sappiness might somehow become a feature of his life if he was able to magically fumble his way out of this fuck up of his. And that for Cas, anything would go. Anything he wanted. Anything at all, up to and including all the sappiness he could handle. It wasn’t as though it wasn’t something he didn’t like himself if he allowed himself to have it, to believe he could have it—to acknowledge that he even wanted it. And if he was going to actually get to _have_ Cas, then he had every intention of taking it all, every last bit of it. Every last drop.

A sign caught Dean’s attention and with a split second decision he was turning off the highway, calculating how long his stop would add to his journey and deciding it was worth it if it made Cas smile even only a little.

Dean parked the car, walked into the shopping mall with purpose and sought out the only sunglasses store he could find. He even knew the perfect pair the second he saw them, remembering exactly the style Cas liked; his mind played over the incident of them buying glasses together that had led up to the mess they were currently in, and he grit his teeth in determination of proving to Cas just how sorry he was.

He even allowed himself to enjoy the memory properly; of how he’d shivered at being pressed up so close against Cas, about the way his skin had tingled when he’d put the sunglasses on for Cas and made excuses to touch him under the pretext of checking they were comfortable. He was doing that too, that wasn’t actually a lie; but the unnecessary closeness, the way Cas’ breath had ghosted over his lips because they were standing that close. Dean remembered it all now, in minute detail, and especially how he’d shuddered for more; what was he going to do with himself if he genuinely got to have all of that?

Dean watched the glasses being slid into their case and handed over his credit card, buzzing with anticipation and half-desperate to get going. That didn’t stop him coming to an abrupt halt outside a chocolatier and running in to grab a handmade mixed box for Cas, feeling an idiot for doing so then berating himself for that as well. He even paused to debate having some kind of message scribbled on one of those chocolate tablet things by the counter, but held himself back, telling himself that if things did pan out the way he hoped they would then that would be on the list of one of the many things he wanted to do for Cas. Besides, his head was too full of thoughts, feeling and ideas to come up with anything suitable to actually write, and as he kept telling himself, he had to get this absolutely, perfectly right.

Back in the car, with the last few miles slipping away beneath the Impala’s wheels, Dean’s nervousness wrapped up around him, whispering at him to let doubt in, to let negativity win out. He fought it back though, determined not to listen; there was too much at stake here for him to mess up even a second of it.

Five miles became four, and four miles became three; Dean’s heart started up a pounding that never really felt as though there were any single beats in between. With his stomach rolling in fear and his throat constricting until it began to hurt, Dean drove into a parking space, switched off the engine, and the sudden silence rushed at him as though it was a physical force pounding against his skin.

Dean glanced up at the building for a second to steel himself, then was climbing out of the car, clutching his purchases as though they were some kind of lifeline as he quietly closed the door behind him and made his way over to the entrance. The receptionist smiled and nodded him through; Dean presumed she thought he was already a guest and didn’t say or do anything to make her realize otherwise, letting his body sag in relief once in the elevator that he hadn’t been figured out as being out of place.

The elevator ride up had his skin prickling, with every inch of him tingling, his heart stuttering and stumbling, and when he held out his hands with the bag tucked under his arm, Dean could see how badly they were trembling. The elevator pinged to announce its floor arrival and Dean was so on edge that he actually jumped a little on hearing it.

The hallway outside looked longer then he remembered; Dean paused for a moment then determinedly strided out, counting down the numbers on doors that he had no interest in and his heart beating even more erratically the closer that he got.

Dean came to a halt outside Cas’ door, and he had to take another moment by steadying himself against the wall with his hand, cursing himself for being so ridiculous. With a firm push against the wall Dean righted himself, breathed out hard a couple of times, forced himself to knock.

Every part of him was on alert as he waited for Cas to answer and when the door began to be unbolted Dean thought his knees really might buckle beneath him, and that Cas would open the door to find Dean sprawled out pathetically on the floor in front of him.

Dean listened as the door swung open softly as its edges caught on the pile of the thick carpet in a gentle sweeping sound; Dean’s mouth dried out entirely as Cas peered out at him first mistrustful, then in utter surprise, the door falling open a little wider as Cas’ hand pushed against its frame as though without any thought at all.

“Hey,” Dean stuttered out, the relief at finally being here warring with his fear that he still might be turned away.

“Dean,” Cas replied, coolly, calmly, without giving away a single emotion.

Dean cleared his throat, fought back the thousand versions of words he wanted to say at once to him and held himself steady, made himself sure.

“Can… please can I come in?”

* * *

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Cas stared back at him unmoving for the longest of moments, long enough for Dean to let himself believe that Cas really might close the door in his face again, and that all of his hopes on the way here had been for nothing.

Dean forced himself to be patient despite Cas standing there unmoving, although he didn’t put up a pretense of being calm; his fear was there written on his face, plain and open for Cas to see, and there was no possible way of him interpreting it in any other way.

Finally, Cas gave a stiff, brief nod, stepped back and to the side allowing Dean in, closing the door quietly behind him. Dean watched for a moment as Cas’ hand lingered on the door as though he didn’t want to turn around and look at him. But then he did; Dean’s breath caught all over again as Cas stood before him looking completely lost, and Dean clutched hard to the bag in his hand as though it was now some kind of shield.

“I—I hope I didn’t wake you,” Dean stumbled, glancing over to the bed and thinking that the way the sheets were rucked up probably meant he’d been sat there reading with the duvet tucked up over him. Cas liked reading like that, covered up as much as possible, cocooned in warmth and sinking into it, often ending up falling asleep like that.

Here, in this muted lighting of only the bedside lamp, Dean could imagine just that. Of Cas thumbing over the pages of his tablet completely engrossed in whatever he was reading as he slipped a little further beneath the covers and let weariness take him over, though not being able to put the tablet down.

Dean found himself liking that thought, and even more the thought of being allowed to be here to witness it for himself. He wondered if there was even half a possibility of Cas letting that happen.

“I was not sleeping,”

Dean’s eyes snapped back to Cas’ in an instant, seeing the careful mask there and fighting hard against the urge to close the gap between them, and wrap himself around Cas, and refuse to let him go. He didn’t though, since Cas’ eyes pinned him very firmly in place, asking a thousand questions that it seemed his mouth couldn’t, all centered around the theme of _why are you here_?

“Got you a couple of things,” Dean managed to blurt out, thrusting his hand out at the same time and not caring if Cas saw just how much it was shaking. He thought it might even be good if Cas _did_ see; perhaps he’d take it as a sign of how very serious Dean was about being here, and how utterly terrified he was of what was happening himself.

Cas stared at the bag for a second before curiosity won out; he carefully slipped it from Dean’s fingers avoiding touching him even for the briefest of moments and peered down at the bag before reaching inside. He first pulled out the chocolates and gave a small smile; Dean knew it was a good decision because he knew _Cas_ , and he knew his fondness for chocolate. Dean remembered then, clear as anything the first time Cas had tried chocolate after he’d fallen; the way he’d let the square of it sit on his tongue and begin to melt, the way his eyebrows had shifted in happy surprise and his mouth had clamped down on the taste as his tongue clearly worked away at the piece to lap all of the flavors up.

Dean’s enjoyment of seeing that was bordering on sinful, he realized that then, and oh, how Dean hoped he’d get to see that expression on his face all over again.

Cas sliding the second package out with care brought Dean’s attention back in, and he watched in silence as Cas gently opened the case, his fingers trembling a touch as he reached for and lifted out the glasses. He turned them over, his fingertip stroking over the name etched into the arm of them, turning them so that he could see the lenses fully. His eyes finally raised to meet Dean’s, a tiny smile playing along his lips that Cas himself didn’t seem to know what to do with.

“I told you I did not need designer sunglasses, Dean,”

“Yeah, well, like I told _you—_ tough. ‘Cos you got ‘em now,” Dean fired back, hating that his voice sounded harsh and wondering if he’d made his first failure in attempting to reconcile with Cas by doing something for him that he’d said he didn’t need.

Sadness overwhelmed Dean then, leaving him wondering if he would ever be able to get this right, if he would ever be deserving of Cas if he couldn’t even do a simple thing like _listen_ to what he really wanted.

“I like them very much. Thank you, Dean,”

The soft gratitude in Cas’ voice allowed his mouth to slip into a shy smile, and Dean found himself melting a little in relief.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” Dean stumbled out, hand instantly on the back of his neck and grabbing there, aware he was now trying to anchor _himself_ by doing that.

“It is… a little late in the evening to be needing sunglasses, however,” Cas pointed out then, and they both turned at the same time to glance out of the window as though to remind them it was actually nighttime, as though they needed that visual confirmation.

“No. No I… I guess not. I just… I was driving here, and… and I saw a mall, and… I wanted to get them for you so…”

Cursing at himself under his breath, Dean laughed at his idea, that sunglasses of all things might be an actual suitable gift of apology. A million other, better ideas came to him then, and Dean found himself slumping, realizing just how impossible it apparently was for him to do the right thing.

“Then thank you for thinking of me,”

Dean’s eyes shot up, wide, and searching. “Always thinking of you, Cas. Never _not_ thinking about you lately. Can’t stop, actually,”

“I believe I already asked you not to say things you did not mean, Dean,”

Dean found himself stumbling forward unchecked at the doubt, the wariness in Cas’ voice.

“But I did mean it,” Dean blasted out, stumbling forward another step and his heart thudding violently at the shock in Cas’ eyes as he did.

“I _do_ mean it. I’ve meant it, for the longest, longest time, too. Just been too dumb to _realise_ it, ‘s all,”

Cas swallowed nervously, a gesture he’d only seen on Cas’ face a handful of times. But knowing he was the one putting that nervousness there now was somehow terrifying and exhilarating all in the same mixed up breath.

“What… can I ask what it is you are thinking? When… when you say you are thinking of me?”

“I’m thinking,” Dean said, another half step until he was close enough to be able to reach out for Cas if he wanted to. Though he wouldn’t, not yet, not with that frightened look in Cas’ eyes and all of these _things_ he so desperately needed to say.

“I’m thinking… I’m thinking how… how I don’t think I can even sleep without you anymore, Cas. Of how… how you’re the… the most… the most… that when you wake up you’re this… it’s cute, okay? The way you… the way you wake up all sleepy and—and _clingy_ , and… _affectionate_. But that the second we leave the room, you turn into this grumpy little shit until you’ve got your fingers wrapped around a mug and half that mug of coffee already down your throat,”

Cas’ eyes opened a touch wider, and Dean somehow found the courage from that to plough forward, even if what was coming out of his mouth was unchecked, and not anything like what he’d been planning on saying.

“You take _forever_ in the shower. And I only notice ‘cos… ‘cos when you’re _in_ there... I can’t help thinking about you being _in_ the shower, you know? Like… like what it’d be like to be in there with you, maybe, and, like… like maybe what you’re doing in there that’s _taking_ so long,”

Instant pink flooded Cas’ cheeks then, and to Dean’s mind, that was enough to confirm something he’d suspected about Cas’ bathroom activities for a while now. All the moisture receded from his tongue then, and Dean had to swallow a couple of times just to get rid of that dryness to allow him to continue to speak.

“You got any _idea_ what it does to me when you… _parade_ through the bunker in nothing but a towel after, Cas, huh?” Dean said, his voice cracking and dropping and seeming to contribute to Cas’ eyes widening further still. Dean might have carefully schooled his thoughts on seeing that at the actual time, but now that he was allowing himself to think back about it freely, it was as though every single one of those lustful thoughts he’d denied to himself having were assaulting him all at the same time.

Dean took a breath, clutching at fragments of ideas, sensing he needed a change of subject for both of their sakes.

“I have never— _never_ , felt like I wanted to belong to someone, you know? And I can’t… I can’t tell if it’s just ‘cos that’s how I am, or just ‘cos I… I just never thought I’d get to have that. But… spending time with you, it’s like… it’s like the closest I’ve ever felt to _feeling_ that, you know? To _needing_ that. Like… like maybe we just _fit_ , easy as anything,”

Cas continued staring back at Dean, with Dean finding himself blurting out the first things that came to mind, desperate to keep talking now that he’d started.

“I… I need to know you’re okay. Happy. All the damn time. And if you’re ever not either of those things I feel like it’s my own goddamn personal responsibility to do whatever I gotta do to _make_ you those things. I like seeing you happy. I—I _need_ it. Your face lights up, and… and you _smile_ , and I just… I feel _better_ for seeing it, you know? Like maybe… like maybe this is one thing I _can_ get right without screwing it up,”

“Dean—”

“Let me finish,” Dean said, holding up his hand in a request for Cas not to interrupt. “Please, let me finish. ‘Cos if I don’t get all this… _stuff_ out now, I’m thinking maybe I won’t ever get the balls to do it again,”

Cas immediately closed his mouth again, his eyes brimming with a brightness that sparked similar in Dean’s own.

“I care about you, okay? Like… more than I thought I ever would about someone, you know? I… when you’re not around, I miss you. Not like… not like when you’re in the next _room_ , or… or out somewhere with Sammy or something or, you know. Not in a possessive kinda way like I think I own you or something, but… but when you’re not around… I miss you, Cas. I’m… I’m missing you right now, and you’re stood right in front of me,” Dean laughed, and the laugh broke into a sob about halfway through, as tears began to stream down his own cheeks.

Tears sprung from Cas’ eyes then, falling silently on to his cheeks as he fought hard to remain composed, but Dean could see how his jaw trembled like anything, and fixed his gaze on that for a second before starting up again.

“I would... I’d give _anything_. To take back the last couple days. To take back… all the ways I’ve hurt you because I’m… I’m too stupid to see what I’ve been hiding from myself all along,”

Unable to stop himself Dean took a final step which meant his chest was all but bumping up against Cas’, and his hand raised up in what felt like slow motion to cup Cas’ face, his thumb swiping up and out along his cheek to wipe away a tear. Cas’ eyes dropped closed the instant Dean’s hand touched him, a small blast of air rushing from his mouth, tickling the side of Dean’s hand as it went.

“I want you, Cas,” Dean whispered, raising the other hand to mirror what he’d just done with the first. “In just about every damn way I _can_ want you. I don’t… I don’t know how… how I ever managed to convince myself otherwise. How I… how I made myself believe my own lies about it,”

Cas trembled violently beneath Dean’s palms; Dean shuffled until they were flush together at every possible point. As he’d earlier suspected, just being able to touch Cas like that was exactly as grounding as Dean had thought it was going to be. He felt himself sink into Cas’ body heat in relief because though he didn’t feel that he deserved it, Cas didn’t look like he was going anywhere. Dean let out another sigh, dropping his forehead down to press against Cas’ and his own eyes falling closed the second Cas’ shaky hands pressed hesitantly into his sides.

“I… I think you already knew this long before I let myself know it, but… but… think I kinda love you, Cas,”

A burst of a sob and a tighter grip around his waist; Dean’s eyes flew open to meet Cas’, his own tears blurring his vision a little but not in any way to prevent seeing the cautious hope still there on Cas’ face.

Dean tilted Cas’ face up to him a little and held his gaze, swallowing thickly and forcing himself to speak when at any other time these words might have been impossible.

“I love you. And I’m so, _so_ sorry, Cas. Can you… can you give me another chance?”

Dean watched as further tears spilled from Cas’ eyes at a rate to match his own, at the way Cas’ face really did seem to light up, as the last lingering doubt bled away from him. Dean waited patiently letting Cas take his time to react, because he knew the next move had to be Cas’, no matter what he himself wanted to happen.

The corners of Cas’ mouth turned up into a grin, and Cas dropped his head forward, burying himself into the crook of Dean’s neck, wrapping his arms around him so securely that Dean felt if he were to drop right now, with the way his knees felt like they were going to give way at any moment, that Cas would still be able to hold him up with barely any extra effort at all.

Slowly sliding his hands down Cas’ arms until they skimmed off at the elbow, Dean raised his own elbows until he could hook them over Cas’ shoulders. Cas shuffled closer at the jostling; Dean cradled the back of his head with one hand as Cas resettled himself, and wrapped the other one lightly around his neck, bending and dropping a soft kiss on the side of his head as an apology for the movement. Dean’s heart soared instantly at the thought that maybe this was something he could freely do now, and as he did it again he felt Cas smiling into his skin.

A final memory came to Dean then, of Cas absently dropping kisses on to his neck in his sleep; of the way his own heart had sped up in excitement and his mind had raged in fear in that moment, and how if he could take it back and do that moment over, there were about a million different ways he’d have wanted it to continue. And maybe, just maybe, if he did this perfectly, maybe he’d get the chance to show Cas exactly all of that.

A quiet hope fluttered in Dean, steadily gaining strength.

Cas nuzzled against him a little then, letting out a sigh that spoke of his own relief. Dean tightened his arm around him a fraction and dropped the other from where he’d been cradling his head so he could wrap that one around his neck as well.

Bumping his head down briefly on his own arm around Cas’ shoulder, Dean forced himself to look up, and smiled when Cas did the same. They stared at each other then, a little shy, a touch embarrassed, and a lot hopeful.

Dean shifted again a little later, bravely pressing a lingering kiss to Cas’ forehead then pulling back to gauge his reaction. Cas’ smile was so wide, so full of delight that Dean found himself swelling with the pride of actually getting to be the one to make Cas smile like that. That maybe, if he played his cards right, and started thinking before speaking, well. Maybe he had a shot at not messing this thing up.

“Can I stay, Cas?” Dean whispered, moving a hand to cup Cas’ face again and worrying at his own lip in case Cas wouldn’t want that again yet, not after all that had happened. “Just to sleep. I… I wanna fall asleep with you, if you’ll let me,”

Cas’ smile hitched up impossibly wider before he nodded, raised himself enough to press the chastest of kisses on Dean’s cheek that had Dean’s heart soaring as though it was cheering him on. Then Cas was stepping back, threading their fingers together, and leading Dean across the room towards his bed.

* * *

Daylight didn’t wake Dean the next morning. No outside influences, not even the stirring of Cas securely wrapped up in his arms with his face tucked into Dean’s neck.

It was the quiet. More than that, it was the _peace_ , that feeling of _content_ that stirred him back to consciousness. An undercurrent of understanding that from now on, everything was going to be okay.

Dean raised his head a touch to peek down at Cas, who although shifting a little was still a little early on in his wake up process to actually be fully awake. Dean grinned to himself, wide and happy, both for openly recognizing Cas’ habits from seeing them so many times over, and for Cas actually being there with him and allowing him to see it.

They had shyly stripped down to boxers and t-shirts either side of the bed last night, crawling in at the same time, instantly finding each other in the middle of the bed and just _staring._  Their hands had met somewhere in the middle of that too, and it had been as simple as that. No words, no exploring fingers, nothing, nothing at all until Cas had yawned and Dean had pulled him against him, arranging them both exactly as they were now.

Dean might have allowed himself to kiss the top of Cas’ head as he’d settled against him, and maybe Cas had placed his own kiss against Dean’s jaw as he did that, but that was as far as it had gone. And, Dean thought, grinning even harder, there wasn’t even any hurry for anything more than that to happen. Everything _would_ happen, just like Cas had said he thought it would, whenever they were ready.

Not that Dean’s mind wasn’t racing with all of the possibilities of him and Cas being together already, but still. He was trying to keep things calm.

In an effort to keep that calm and not give away his traitorous thoughts, Dean carefully extricated himself from Cas’ grip so that he wouldn’t wake up pressed against something that would definitely give those very thoughts away. He held perfectly still for a moment, watching Cas for signs of having been woken, then shifted as silently as possible out of the bed.

Dean was thankful that the hotel had so many free toiletries, one of the perks, he supposed, of staying in a place like this. In the cabinet under the bathroom sink he found a tooth brushing kit as well as miniature sized shower gels and shampoos that were untouched. Dean looked up and over the surfaces and his heart gave a quiet thud to see Cas’ own stuff carefully laid out, as though he’d spent time arranging them exactly as he had things set out in the bunker, as though he needed that reminder of _home_.

Dean wrapped his hands around the porcelain of the sink for a moment, breathing out his thanks that he’d got to wake up with Cas this morning. Risking a glimpse in the mirror Dean frowned at his reflection, but tilted his chin up and told himself: it _was_ okay to hope, it _was_ okay to trust this. It _was_ okay to be this happy, and instead of trying to explain away or justify it, maybe he should just let it happen, see how things unfolded between them.

Going about his usual routine, Dean couldn’t keep the grin from his face, the hum from his lips around the toothbrush with what had to be the smallest handle known to mankind. He wiped his face on a towel, tilted his jaw in the mirror and pulling a face at the roughness of the stubble there, splashed his face again with water and cleared the sleep from his eyes, turning back around again with a determined nod to himself.

He hadn’t counted on opening the bathroom door and being barrelled into by Cas, looking wild-eyed and frantic and so hopelessly lost all over again. Instantly Dean’s arms were around him, and Cas was breathing out erratically against Dean’s shoulder, his arms pinned between their chests from the rush he’d gone at Dean with.

“Well good morning to you too, Cas,” Dean laughed, but it was soft, and he wrapped his arms a little tighter around Cas until he felt the tension in him drop, Cas mumble against him, and Cas’ arms slip awkwardly around his back.

“I thought… I thought perhaps I had been dreaming last night,” Cas said, sounding so forlorn Dean was squeezing him again before Cas had even got his sentence fully out, slipping his fingers through the back of his hair and holding him close.

“Yeah… yeah, I get why you might think that,” Dean sighed, hating that he’d put such doubts into Cas’ head, _thinking_ a thousand apologies at him, adamant he’d do all he could to make things up to him.

“Or that… or that perhaps you had changed your mind,”

“Cas...”

Dean dropped his grip from Cas and his guilt surged at the way Cas just gripped him tighter, but he had to expect that. He’d put Cas on one hell of an emotional rollercoaster these past few days and there was bound to be fallout. So if constant reassurance was what Cas needed from him for now, then that was exactly what Dean would do for him. Whatever it took to keep Cas smiling.

Dean let his hands drift up in their intended path, somehow backing up enough without entirely moving out of Cas’ grip so that he could cup Cas’ face.

“Listen to me,” Dean pleaded, keeping his voice low but firm. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I get… I get why you’d doubt that, and that… that I’ve no right to ask you to trust me right away, but. But I’m telling you now. I’m not leaving you again. No way, not never. Not unless you tell me to. Got it?”

Dean emphasized his words with another kiss to Cas’ forehead, feeling the way the frown there smoothed out under his lips.

“I promise,” he whispered again with a second kiss to his head, nosing his way along Cas’ eyebrow and dropping another kiss to his temple before pulling him close again, wrapping his arms around Cas hard. Cas fearing he would leave him now seemed an impossible, improbable thought, but if that was what he was thinking then it was Dean’s job, his _purpose_ now to do everything he could to turn that idea back around again. And to hope Cas wouldn’t disappear when he saw Dean’s own very real, very raw need for _him_ now on display.

“So how ‘bout,” Dean said then, nudging against Cas’ cheek with his nose until his turned enough for Dean to press a kiss there as well, “How ‘bout you turn back around and climb back into bed with me, huh? This is what… day five of you being here? We got a good couple more days when we don’t need to be doing anything. I mean, if you like. If you want to. If you want me here—”

“I want you here,” Cas nodded against him enthusiastically, making Dean smile all over again. “I… I will use the bathroom first and then… then I will come back to bed,”

The way Cas said _come back to bed_ sounded so shy, hesitant and full of awe that Dean couldn’t help giving him another squeeze, before pulling away enough for Cas to step back, grinning up at him.

Dean waited until Cas shut the bathroom door before returning to the bed and wriggling back beneath the covers, enjoying the residual heat there. He reached out, pulling his phone from the charge and thumbing through his messages, his ears growing red at the new ones he’d received from Sam. He fired off a quick _we’re good, working stuff out_ and checked everything was on mute before he slid it back on to the side again. He didn’t want Cas coming back in thinking Dean wouldn’t give him his full attention; Dean laughed at himself then for trying to do, and get everything perfect; Cas would never want that from him, had never _asked_ that of him either.

Seconds later and Cas was back in the room, climbing back into bed looking as though he was thoroughly shy about it but also that he didn’t want to show that he was. The second he stopped moving Dean was rolling towards him, sliding a hand around his hips and pulling him back against him, hand settled possessively on his lower back as Cas propped himself up a little over him. Dean even let his hand slip under Cas’ t-shirt, savoring the feel of his skin there against his palm and also the little shocked look on Cas’ face as he did it.

Cas shifted back a little and looked down at Dean’s chest as though thinking then back up again with more determination, sliding his own hands up and under Dean’s t-shirt and coming to a stop when his fingertips were skimming over the base of his ribs. When he finally seemed to have the courage to find Dean’s eyes Dean just beamed up at him.

“All yours, Cas. You can take whatever you want, ‘cos it’s all yours,”

Cas eyes blew wide, his mouth dropping open a fraction making Dean’s grin that touch wider, but before he could comment or even make a soft attempt at teasing him he was met with a lap full of Cas bending himself over awkwardly and claiming his mouth.

Dean must have frozen, or his brain must have blanked out entirely and prevented him from kissing back or responding in any way at all, because when he got around to lifting his hands from the bed, the anticipation of having his hands wrapped around Cas’ bare thighs making him genuinely tremble, Cas was already pulling away from him, ducking his head and looking completely crestfallen.

“What? No, wait,” Dean stammered out, chasing Cas as he attempted to back away from him by sitting up fast, gripping around his waist. “Where’re you going?”

“I—”

“Give a guy a chance, wouldya?” Dean teased in a blast of laughter as he dropped his hands and let himself slide his palms down appreciatively over Cas’ thighs, as he’d intended doing just seconds earlier.

“How ‘bout we start that over, huh?” Dean asked, slowly sliding his hands back up again then reaching up and cupping Cas’ face, angling his jaw, pulling him down to him and pressing their lips together, not taking anything more than that in the hope that Cas would take the hint and take the lead.

When Cas did take that hint, sliding his lips over Dean’s with so much hesitance it was almost like he was intentionally torturing him, Dean whined, loud, in protest as he slid one hand through the back of Cas’ hair again in an attempt to encourage him on. Cas pulled away immediately with yet another look of surprise on his face, paused for a second then ducked back down, kissing him with no hesitation this time whatsoever.

This time Dean’s response was a pleased sigh, and Cas responded eagerly to it, wrapping his fingers first in a grip over the flats of Dean’s shoulders and then sliding them in and upwards without ever breaking contact with his skin, Cas’ fingers eventually stopping to toy with the shorter hair at the nape of Dean’s neck.

Cas shifted on Dean’s lap, and Dean let out a soft moan that had Cas pulling back yet again and looking shocked. But before Dean could even begin his protest that time Cas was back on him, flicking his tongue against Dean’s lower lip asking for access and moaning into Dean’s mouth as he slid his tongue inside. The way Cas rocked himself against him as Dean slid his tongue over Cas’ had Dean fighting for breath; and they lost themselves to all but clawing at each other, pulling one another in tighter and kissing bitingly, bruisingly, as though making up for lost time.

Which, Dean thought to himself when he allowed himself a moment _to_ think of anything besides just how good Cas felt on and over him, that was exactly what they were doing.

Dean shifted then, settling his hands around Cas’ thighs once more and humming to himself at the expanse of toned muscle there literally beneath his splayed fingers.

“Cas,” he whispered in between kisses, leaning up and claiming another biting one of his own before pulling back and grinning at him. “Cas, man, we gotta… we gotta slow it down a bit, yeah? Don’t wanna… Don’t wanna rush this,”

Of course, every word he said was interrupted with more kisses, instigated by either one of them to the point of not knowing who really had the claim of which. And darting his tongue back in Cas’ mouth when he was the one saying they should be pulling back sent the most confusing of signals even to his own brain; Dean snorted at himself, leaned in for one more noisy kiss then pulled back, chuckling to himself.

“I had not finished,” Cas grumbled, and Dean threw his head back in delighted laughter, taking advantage of Cas’ moment of what _felt_ like sulking to flip them over so that Cas was pinned beneath him. Cas let out a huff of surprise that had Dean grinning all over again, powerless to resist leaning in and pressing another kiss to his mouth.

“Neither had I,” Dean promised, shifting so that he could lay over Cas more comfortably yet not squash him at the same time. And this time, he initiated the kiss; a soft bite to the corner of Cas’ mouth, a tiny suck on his lower lip that had Cas gasping in a breath. Gentle nudges, repeated until they angled and fit together perfectly, unhurried, with the occasional swiping out of a tongue to taste.

Dean shifted, resting on his forearms and stroking his thumbs out to catch Cas’ face when he could. And Cas’ hands swept up under Dean’s t-shirt with confidence this time, especially as Dean’s pleased response to it meant him opening up his mouth a little wider.

Dean pulled away, nuzzling against Cas’ jaw, dipping his head down and kissing a path back up his neck that left him gasping. A soft mouthing to his ear and along his jawline before claiming his mouth all over again had Cas melting there beneath him; and despite both of them being so obviously aroused, this gentleness between them seemed all they really needed in that moment.

Cas explored a little; his hands pushed up Dean’s t-shirt higher as he swept his palms over the expanse of skin there. His fingers pressed gently into Dean’s waist, and after taking a telltale breath for bravery he slid his fingers down over the fabric of Dean’s boxers, lightly gripping his ass. Dean responded with a smile against Cas’ lips and a nibble at his lower, raising his head for a moment to wink at him before leaning back down to kiss him all over again

Dean shifted once more, a playful bite on Cas’ chin before he began another trail of kisses that had Cas stuttering. Pressing a soft kiss to the soft dip beneath Cas’ chin, a softer one still over his Adam’s Apple, Dean worked his way down, until he was nosing at the collar of his t-shirt and humming there.

“Take it off,” Cas whispered, swallowing thickly. “Take it off. I want… I want to feel your skin on mine. Please,”

Dean closed his eyes to the images that request surged through him, swallowing hard before sitting back up, trailing a hand down Cas’ front until he reached the edge of his t-shirt, and slowly nudged it up. Cas immediately raised himself enough for Dean to pull the shirt up and over his head; Dean’s eyes fell on the solidness of muscle that was Cas’ stomach holding him up like that, then to the side to the tattoo etched into his skin, and groaned.

“You’re gonna have to wait a minute for that, Cas,” Dean murmured, shrugging out of his own shirt in a second and his breath catching all over again at Cas’ eyes on him looking so full of _want_ that Dean didn’t know where to look.

What he did know was that he needed his lips on Cas. Shifting down the bed he pressed a soft kiss to Cas’ stomach that had him gasping softly. Dean pressed his forehead there a moment with a soft groan to himself before kissing again, a rain of the smallest of kisses all over his stomach before moving on to his tattoo.

Here, Dean let out another, more guttural moan; he’d seen Cas’ tattoo on enough occasions by now that it shouldn’t be such a shock to him. But having it there, right beneath his lips, right where he could lick and kiss a path over each of the unfamiliar letters had Dean mumbling to himself about keeping himself together.

Cas’ gentle fingers stroking through his hair didn’t help much with that, especially when Dean shifted yet again and in doing so brushed his lips over the angle of Cas’ hipbone. He paused, stared up at Cas in sheer disbelief that any of this was real, then nuzzled, licked and kissed at that as well, before repeating it on the other side, all whilst Cas writhed beneath him in a way that was at best unfair, and at worst indecent.

Dean kneeled back up, fighting to keep himself under control. Still straddling Cas’ legs, his hands spread wide and stroking up as much of Cas’ chest at once as he could reach. His palms stirred a teasing circle over Cas’ nipples making him let out another pleased noise Dean couldn’t help cataloging, before shifting for a final time and sliding his way back up, until bare skin was pressed on bare skin.

Dean had to close his eyes; the feeling was more than a little overwhelming. Cas, warm, and firm, and so willing beneath him, wriggling and writhing as though he wanted to get even more of Dean’s skin on him, tracing erratic patterns across his back, up the slope of his neck and across the width of his shoulders. It was more than he could rationally process and left him unable to think of anything at all, besides continuing to catalog all of the little noises Cas was making and mentally noting what he had to do to hear them all over again.

Cas ducked his head, angling to kiss him again and Dean claimed his mouth as his own hands continued their exploration and stroking down Cas’ sides, up his arms, touching as much of him as possible as well.

Nothing, Dean thought then, tracing his fingers up Cas’ ribs before grabbing for his hands and pinning them either side of Cas’ face, nothing in even his wildest of imaginations had ever accurately conjured up this _feeling_ being with Cas like this was stirring in him.

Dean thread his fingers through Cas’ against the bed, leaning to press a kiss to his shoulder, sinking to swirl his tongue over one nipple and bite at the other, before nuzzling and nipping at Cas’ neck just enough to have him gasping all over again and for his teeth to have left the tiniest of bruises.

Dean looked down then, at Cas’ trusting face there between his pinned hands, the swell of his lips, the sparkle in his eyes, the heat in his cheeks, and a warmth flooded Dean’s chest, leaving him shaking his head in disbelief all over again, laughing softly to himself.

“What?” Cas asked, and Dean was pleased to hear that there wasn’t any hesitance there this time, no doubting or worrying about what Dean was about to say to him.

“You,” Dean said simply, releasing his grip on Cas hands to bracket his face between his elbows and lean down to kiss him all over again, fingers drooping just enough to play with the strands of Cas’ hair. “You. You’re… you’re incredible, Cas. You gotta know that, right?”

“I—”

“Shh…” Dean silenced with a brief shake of his head and another kiss. “I say you’re incredible. So you’re incredible. Got it?”

“Got it,” Cas said as though he was trying to be serious but was failing to do so because of the way his lips curved up into the happiest of smiles.

“Good,” Dean insisted, kissing him once more before rolling on to his side and pulling Cas with him. And for the next hour or so, because Dean wasn’t exactly trying to keep track, they were just this. Side by side, curled into one another, hands reaching out to explore exposed skin, soft kisses, softer smiles. Really, Dean thought, kissing Cas a little more insistently as he did. If he’d have thought this time just twenty-four hours earlier that he’d get to be laying in bed with Cas like this in the most gentle, most meaningful make out session of his entire life, Dean wouldn’t have even dared to hope it would be a possibility.

And yet, despite everything, this, and _here_ , was exactly what they _were_.

* * *

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Lunchtime announced itself early, or breakfast, very late, with the rumbling of Dean’s stomach so loud that Cas paused from where he’d been pressing kisses along every scar of Dean’s he could find—and being Dean, that was a lot—to stare down at his stomach with such a frown that Dean laughed and asked if he was somehow offended.

When Dean prompted him for an answer Cas huffed, bent down quick to kiss his stomach then nimbly jumped off of the bed, leaving Dean sitting up and reaching for him as Cas wandered away from him muttering about them both needing to shower and find something to eat.

“What, got no candy left?” Dean shouted after him, though knowing it was pointless, although the box he’d bought for Cas the previous evening made a hasty tiding-over kind of snack in between both of their showers and the distraction of kisses that meant it was more than an hour before they were actually heading out of the hotel room.

Outside the room Dean slung his arm around Cas’ shoulders to walk along the hallway, pressing him up against the elevator wall the second they got in and kissing him all the way down, until the door pinged open at the bottom. His arm was around his waist as they walked to the car, with Cas leaning into the gesture looking so happy that Dean just had to crowd him back against the Impala and kiss him there as well. When he pulled away from Cas, Dean couldn’t hold back the happiness on his own face even if he wanted to; Cas’ answering grin just made everything feel impossibly that little bit better still.

“Cas,” Dean chided in a serious tone the second they slid into the car and closed the doors behind them; Cas’ eyes darted over at him in alarm that had Dean’s lips twitching.

“Seriously, man. You gotta… you gotta stop being so damn distracting all the time. How’m I s’posed to get us to a diner if you just keep _looking_ like _that_ , huh?”

Dean waved out a vague hand at him shaking his head as though he was actually disappointed in Cas’ behavior, and Cas clearly didn’t know what do, or how to react. He looked down at himself in bafflement then back up at Dean, shaking his head, and Dean all but tackled him from across the seat, kissing him all over again in between the guffaws of laughter that slipped out at the look on Cas’ face.

“Seriously,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow at him at exactly the same time as he leaned in for another kiss, “Gotta stop it. Like, _now_. We’re gonna starve if you don’t, you know that, right?”

Cas’ helpless look had Dean grinning hard, pulling him into a one-armed hug as he turned the engine over, and pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Gonna let you in on a little secret, Cas,” Dean said, steering the car out of the car park then reaching out to tangle his fingers through Cas’ and bring their joined hands back to rest in his own lap. Cas tracked the movement with his eyes and his mouth curled up into a smile that Dean had every intention of making a permanent feature of his face.

“You might just be the best thing that's ever happened to me,”

Cas’ eyes lifted to Dean’s then, startled, as though he was completely bewildered by Dean’s behavior.

“‘S a secret though,” Dean said, bringing up their hands and kissing the back of Cas’, another movement Cas watched like a hawk, before Dean pressed a finger against his own lips as though telling Cas a confidence. “So don’t you be telling anyone,”

“Dean,” Cas said, sounding full of confusion. Dean squeezed his fingers and grinned again at him, this time with reassurance.

“Just messing with you Cas,” Dean told him with a gentleness in his voice he realised he only ever used with Cas. “I mean yeah… you’re pretty distracting, and _hell_ yeah you really _might_ be the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole damn life. But I’m just… I’m playing with you. I’m… you _make_ me like this,”

“Like what?” Cas asked, shaking his head again.

Dean shrugged, grinning at him before turning his eyes back out to the road. “Happy,”

Yeah, Dean laughed at himself, you’ve managed to turn yourself into an utter moron of a sap overnight, imagining then the hell that would be Sam if he were here with them right now to witness it. But, Dean told himself, he didn’t care, he really, honestly didn’t. He’d enjoy this moment, enjoy the look on Cas’ face even more, and somehow, when this _euphoria_ he was feeling had settled down into something a bit more normal and manageable, then maybe this pressing need to just keep coming out with this stuff might fade as well.

Maybe. Maybe some of it.

* * *

Dean watched Cas eating, echoing that still-permanent smile on his face, glad to see his appetite, relieved that this everyday activity of them having lunch together still felt as normal as it ever had, and buzzing with an undercurrent of excitement that had no real point or purpose but still felt so very good. One of Cas’ knees was slotted between his, and every now and then Dean squeezed them together, smirking at the way Cas would instantly give him a shy smile for it.

“What do you wanna do when we’re done here?” Dean asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“It… it is too cloudy a day to try out my new sunglasses,” Cas said, with a quick glance of the window at the grey clouds churning in, and a small smile back at Dean.

“True,” Dean said, sitting back in his seat and steepling his fingers together against the table. “Wanna… we can… we can go for a drive, we can… I mean we can try and get a walk in ‘fore it rains, which might be pretty soon. We can… take a look around, see if there’s anything interesting going on here. Go to the theater—”

“Perhaps we could watch movies on the TV back at the hotel?” Cas asked, his voice quiet as though he was hesitant about the suggestion.

That warm feeling stirred up in Dean’s chest again. “You wanna… I mean sure, we can find something on, or maybe… stop somewhere, pick up a few you’ve not seen yet or something. If that’s what you want,”

“I like this idea,” Cas nodded decisively, mopping up the last of the sauce on his plate with the remains of his burger and taking a final bite.

“Yeah? You don’t feel like… like going somewhere? Doing something?”

“I would be doing something. _We_ would be doing something. We would be watching movies together in a nice hotel room.” Cas looked at Dean hopefully then and Dean knew he was already lost; not that he objected to Cas’ idea at all.

“Duvet day, huh?” Dean smiled, finishing off the last of his own food and patting his stomach as he gave a little stretch.

Cas looked as though he was considering the term then smiled, pleased. “Duvet day with snacks,”

Dean laughed at the amendment and nodded. “‘K. Let’s… let’s… let’s find a store somewhere with _snacks_ , maybe some movies, or something to watch, and… head back. Maybe I can pick up a change of clothes while we’re at it as well, save me going back to the bunker,”

“You... you are going to stay? With me?” Cas asked, looking at Dean even more hopefully then and making Dean’s heart beat wild.

“‘Course. I mean… If you’ll have me. if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. I mean I _want_ to stay,” It was Dean’s turn to doubt, although he really knew he shouldn’t, berated himself for allowing even the slightest amount of negativity to show up on this otherwise unbelievably perfect day.

“I want you to say,” Cas told him simply, smiling warmly back at him. “Please. Stay,”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Dean said, smiling anyway and raising a hand for the bill.

* * *

Cas even made Walmart fun, Dean thought to himself, bursting out with laughter at Cas’ reaction to the wall of DVDs on offer as though he didn’t even know where to begin looking. Dean helped him pick a handful, tactfully extracting cartoons from his fingers when he strayed into the kids section, though kissing him whilst he did it in case he felt any real sense of being reprimanded.

Dean threw a few items of clothes into their cart, gesturing for Cas to add any that he wanted too. He winked in approval at Cas’ choices, then steered them away in search of suitable snacks.

“We can get take out later if you want? That Chinese place we passed?” Dean said, debating between two flavors of chips and holding them up for Cas to choose between.

“I like Chinese,” Cas replied, grabbing both bags and shoving them in the cart, looking as though he was desperate to not show he was checking with Dean if that was okay.

“Yeah, that’s why I _said_ it, doofus,” Dean grinned, leaning in to kiss him as naturally as if they had been doing that for the longest of times. Cas’ hands wrapped around Dean’s waist tentatively; Dean pulled him in with a tug and hummed in approval as he deepened their kiss.

“I think Sam might object if we do… _this_ when we are together,” Cas said when they pulled apart, though his eyes still lingered on Dean’s lips as though he wanted to be doing it all over again.

“What, this?” Dean said, pressing another kiss on him before winking, sliding a hand down his arm as he walked away to grab the cart again.

“Yes,”

“Well maybe,” Dean conceded though shrugged to show how unbothered by that idea he was, wrapping his hand around the handle of the cart and tilting his head for Cas to follow him. “Maybe we’ll have to look up from time to time, sure,”

Cas’ cheeks flushed; Dean leaned over to kiss one, just because he could.

“I am sure he will… comment,” Cas said, a little further along the aisle.

Dean looked over at him, shrugging one shoulder. “So?”

“So. I would understand if you… if you decided that we… that this was private. Only between us. If you chose not to tell him. Or anyone,”

The cart jolted hard as Dean came to an abrupt halt, holding out his hand to stop Cas from continuing moving as well.

“What?”

Cas looked back up at him but didn’t say a single word.

“Cas,” Dean said, stepping close until they were flush together and his hand was loose around Cas’ waist. “Firstly, it’s not like I even _want_ to hide this from anyone,”

Dean proved that point by pulling him a fraction closer and kissing him thoroughly until they both had to pull away for air.

“Secondly… Sam’s gonna be stoked. Trust me. He’d gonna… he’s gonna be a bastard and tease us every opportunity he gets, but… if you’re thinking somehow that he’s not gonna _approve_ , then—”

“I was not sure that he would,”

With a snort, Dean pulled back from Cas and nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and thumbing his way through his messages, already wincing at some of the worst ones from Sam, and hoping he hadn’t sent any further that he’d not checked yet that would make Cas blush on seeing.

Holding the phone out for Cas to read, Cas looked up at him uncertainly for a second then took it from his fingers, reading intently and his eyes growing wider with every passing second. Slowly, Cas raised his eyes back to Dean questioningly, and Dean just shrugged.

“What can I say. He’s… he approves,”

Cas continued to stare wide-eyed. “I… I can see that,”

“Don’t worry,” Dean told him, stepping forward yet again to press another kiss to his forehead, “It’s all gonna be easy. You just wait,” Of course when Dean was reassuring Cas of that he was actually reassuring himself as well.

Cas nodded, still looking as though he had his doubts, but then adding, “Charlie, I imagine, will be happy,”

Dean turned his head, raising an eyebrow in question but smiling all the same. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I believe… from her messages I believe that she would be very happy indeed,”

“What’s she said?” Dean laughed, curious and mentally planning to contact Charlie the first chance he got.

“Many things,” Cas said, cheeks coloring instantly. “She has said many things. I think it is best summed up with her constant statement that _she ships it_ ,”

Dean shook his head, laughing though he didn’t understand. “I have _no_ idea what that means,”

The cart filled up as they made their way through the aisles, with Dean turning down the toiletries aisle to pick up something bigger than the free samples he'd already worked his way through that morning. He turned to find Cas curiously picking up a bottle of lube; Dean flushed crimson but slid it out of his fingers and into the cart as well, looping his arms low around Cas’ waist.

“We’re gonna need that at some point,” Dean told him, punctuating it with a kiss. “I’m not saying we’re gonna need it any time soon, or that there’s any pressure to need it any time soon, but… it’s good to be prepared, right?”

Cas nodded, his eyes seeming to glaze over just enough for Dean to be desperate to know what he was thinking. He wasn’t quite brave enough to ask.

“Will we need these?” Dean asked, still with one arm tucked around his waist though reaching over his shoulder with the other and bringing back a box of condoms into Cas’ view.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, pressing his first publicly initiated kiss on to the corner of Dean’s mouth and making Dean’s heart thud in the process, “I hope it does not disappoint you to know that you and I… we cannot procreate. We are both men,”

A snort of laughter blasted its way out of Dean then, and Dean wrapped Cas up in his arms, pressing laughing kisses anywhere he could reach.

“Yeah, I’d kinda figured that out for myself. I _meant—_ ”

“This body is free of any disease, sexual or other,” Cas assured him, grinning then.

“This one too,” Dean winked, “least, was the last time I checked. Which was forever ago since I’ve not… you know… for so long,”

“I know,” Cas told him solemnly, making Dean’s heart thud all over again.

“Waiting for you,” Dean added quietly. “Even if I didn’t know I was. But I was,”

The smile on Cas’ face was worth everything, Dean thought, bending to kiss him softly before slotting the box of condoms back on the shelf and turning to grab the handle of the cart once again.

“I actually meant that I had checked you over for any possible health problems not long before I fell,” Cas corrected after a moment in the tone he often used when he was being superior, keeping his eyes firmly forward but the smirk on his face there plain as anything for Dean to see.

Dean snorted beside him, nudging against his arm and his chest giving a quick surge at the thought of Cas doing that for him. “You sassing me, Cas? Why you sassing me?”

Cas turned his head, and Dean had a moment of wondering if Cas actually knew what the word _sass_ even meant. Cas’ face held serious for all of three seconds before it split into the widest, happiest grin imaginable. “Because I _can_ ,”

* * *

Two days passed in a similar fashion; watching movies until late wrapped up in each other’s arms strewn across the bed, missing half of what they were watching due to interruptions of food, kisses, and the absence of shirts that seemed to prove the most distracting. So much so that it didn’t matter if they ended up watching the same thing over and over again, because they missed half of it the second and third watch through as well.

Late lunches at diners, snacks throughout the day within grabbing reach, take out by night, and the occasional walk in between all of that when they felt it necessary to come up for air. And talking, so much talking; easy, unforced, as though the usual things that held them back had somehow dissipated into thin air.

Blissful, some would say, Dean thought to himself trailing kisses down Cas’ neck from where he was propped up against his chest, tilting his head to one side to give him easier access. Perfect, he amended, his fingers finding their way under Cas’ shirt and just holding him there, smiling into his skin as Cas covered Dean’s hands with his own.

As much as they were both enjoying the hotel though, they’d already talked of their quiet looking forward to going home. Dean had already gently asked if Cas would consider keeping his room but sleeping more permanently in _his_ ; Cas had kissed him with such gratitude that Dean had been breathless for a good ten minutes after, partially just from the shock of the way Cas had launched himself at him.

Dean wanted to spend every night with Cas from now on, that was something that went without saying. But Cas’ confession that one of the recurring themes of his nightmares was of losing _him_ , of not getting to him in time, of not being able to save him, of Dean being somehow beyond his reach; Dean reasoned that the only way to reassure Cas he was right there with him was to fall asleep next to him, and wake up the very same way.

Other confessions had been whispered in the safety of their hotel room as well. Dean admitted that half of his issue with Cas was that he never felt _good_ enough for him, for anything at all, and that he never dared imagine Cas would ever think of wanting him back. That confession was met with Cas pinning Dean to the bed with strength Dean had somehow managed to forget he had, angel or not, until Dean had relented breathlessly and taken it back.

That reminder of Cas’ strength though, that had lingered in Dean’s mind, in a number of ways that had them both gasping for more breath and writhing around the bed, even if they remained almost fully clothed as they did that.

The decision to not take things any further between them physically yet had actually come from Dean. Still with this mindset of doing this right, of making Cas see he was worth it, feeling that he had to prove himself despite Cas’ insistence he didn’t, Dean insisted that they wait, that they get back to the bunker first, that Cas let him take him out on an honest-to-god actual date first.

Cas told Dean repeatedly he was already worth absolutely everything to him, did everything he could to try and convince Dean of that fact, including some tactics that left Dean whimpering against his willpower, but the determination Dean felt about this was so unshakeable that Cas finally relented, telling him he would be happy to go along with whatever he suggested and whatever he thought was for the best.

Even if both of them were becoming a little frustrated.

These few days of being simply together though, of taking that time to get to know each other in all the ways they could given the restrictions they’d put on themselves, as well as relearning things about one another that perhaps along the way they had forgotten, Dean wouldn’t trade them for anything. He still felt sick at the way they had gotten here, and had the odd moment of wondering just how long things would have gone on the way they had been between them, if they’d have fallen together more naturally or he himself would have continued to be in denial.

Cas looked at him now, raising an eyebrow, as if he was possibly not reading his mind, but reading the expression there on his face. He tucked the last of his things into his holdall, leaving it open for Dean to use the empty space in there if he needed it, and stepped towards to Dean, simply extending his hand to pull him closer to him.

“Whatever it is you are thinking, we are here _now_. And that is all that matters,”

Dean looked down at their entwined fingers and stared for a moment, dragging his eyes back up with a rueful grin. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Don’t you worry about that,”

Cas stared at him for a minute then pulled him closer still, kissing him quick but firm, making his point succinctly. “I never said that I was worried,”

“Mm,” Dean mumbled, smiling as Cas tugged a little harder on his hand and pressed up against him, dropping it to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck and press his face there, lips lingering against his skin in a way that had Dean shudder with anticipation.

“I am… intrigued. About where you are considering taking me for our _date_ , Dean,” Cas said, clearly changing the subject and fixing Dean with a look that told him not to object.

“Oh you are, are you?” Dean said, pressing back against him with a grin and leaning in to kiss him, smiling as though he’d just discovered a taste he liked so much he just had to lean right in again.

Cas smiled around the kiss, stretching up against him almost, Dean decided, like a cat. “I am,”

“Guess you’ll just have to learn some patience then, huh?”

Cas hummed to himself, bringing his hands back around to slide over Dean’s chest, slip around his waist, and into Dean’s jean pockets, pulling him that fraction closer.

“I have infinite patience,”

“ _Had_. You _had_ infinite patience once upon a time, maybe,” Dean countered, grinning stupidly and peppering kisses over Cas’ face just in case there was even the slightest chance of offense being there.

Cas just grinned all over again and nodded, chasing Dean’s lips with his own. “Perhaps before I met _you_ , I understood what patience was,”

“How’s it my fault now?” Dean protested, laughing the entire time.

“You are very… distracting,” Cas settled for, grinning back at him.

“Distracting, huh?”

“Incredibly so,”

“So what’re we gonna do about that?”

Cas nodded as though considering the point very thoroughly indeed. “You are going to finish packing. We are going to go home. We are going to go on a date, which, by the way, is unnecessary since if my understanding is correct, the very point of a date is to get to know the person you are interested in. I think it is safe to say that we know each other fairly well. And I assume, already both interested,”

“Spoil my fun,” Dean grumbled, ruining it with the way he continued to smile, gently and unconsciously swaying Cas in his arms.

“I have no intention of spoiling your fun,” Cas retorted, grinning at him in a way that was nothing but wicked and had Dean groaning then grumbling all over again at the unfairness of it.

“I—”

“In fact,” Cas said, pressing himself insistently against Dean and looking back at him with an expression that was nothing but loaded, “I plan on allowing you to have all of the fun you want, just as soon as you decide that you want it,”

Dean spluttered, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing as he fought and failed to find his voice.

“I… what… was... was that a _flirtation_ , Castiel?” Dean stuttered eventually; Cas’ grin grew a touch wider at the full use of his name.

“No,” Cas shook his head then, his face becoming solemn and making Dean’ swallow thickly at the expression there. “No. It is a promise,”

The air seemed to have been sucked out of Dean’s lungs as Cas stepped away from him, carefully not looking back in his direction.

“Are you ready to go home, Dean?”

Shaking his head clear of his temporary stupidity Dean sprung to action, grabbing the last of his things and shoving them roughly into gaps in Cas’ holdall and one of the larger bags he’d kept from their shopping spree, with Cas watching his actions in amusement the entire time.

Dean extended a hand to Cas after giving the room the final once-over to check they had anything, then smiled down to see Cas’ fingers slotted through his own.

“Ready to go, Cas?”

Cas gave a short nod, smiling easily. “I am ready to go home,”

* * *

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

“Sweet,”

Dean gave a low whistle as he started a slow spin, taking in the view that was their hotel room for the next—glancing down at his watch for a moment to check—almost ninety-six hours, and continued his circuit feeling well and truly impressed.

“Think Charlie pulled out all the stops for this one, huh?” Dean chuckled, extending his hand out to pull Cas in for a half-absent kiss on his forehead as he continued to look around. Cas curled into his side for a moment, nuzzling into his neck and stepping away again, leaving Dean to whine in protest.

“She did say it was the honeymoon suite,” Cas said with a wry look over his shoulder, lifting their toiletry bags out of their holdall and heading for the bathroom.

“Where’re you going?”

Cas made a soft _oofing_ sound as Dean grabbed out for him as he passed, pulling him back against his chest and wrapping his arms around him tight so there was no chance of him moving. Cas sagged in defeat but his huff was full of amusement, and then approval as Dean began a run of kisses up his neck.

“You know, for a honeymoon suite,” Dean said, continuing the kisses all the way up to behind his ear as Cas tilted his head for him, “‘s not half bad,”

“What were you expecting? Heart cushions and rose petals?” Cas replied drily, though Dean could see the corner of his mouth turning up into a grin.

“Thought it’d be tacky as hell,”

Dean paused from where he was kissing Cas to lift his head, resting his chin on his shoulder and taking another glance around them. Everything matched, everything looked comfortable, and soft, and the colors were muted; creams and browns and easy colors; none of the frills or violent reds and pinks he had in his head when he heard the words _honeymoon suite_.

“I assume Charlie chose something according to your taste, Dean,” Cas said, lightly bumping his head against Dean’s and wriggling from his grip, continuing on his interrupted way to the bathroom.

“Our, taste, Cas, _ours_ ,” Dean called after him with a grin.

Cas appeared seconds later in the doorway and for some reason Dean lost the ability to breathe looking at him.

“Ours,” Cas agreed with a simple smile. Dean was helpless but to echo it.

“Hey look,” The excitement in Dean’s voice clearly had Cas chuckling; Dean turned his head away from what had got his attention to pout at him which only seemed to make Cas laugh more, then turned back again, walking over to the small table on the opposite side of the room.

Cas followed him over, his eyes on Dean’s hands as he lifted out the complimentary champagne from the ice bucket and gestured with it to see if Cas wanted a glass. Cas nodded, already zeroing in on the box of expensive looking chocolates and running his finger along the lid.

His eyes came back to Dean as he heard the cork pop from the bottle, holding out the two flute glasses on the table for Dean to fill. Dean took an inquisitive sniff, clinked his glass against Cas’ then took a mouthful, swirling it around his mouth and swallowing in approval. Cas followed doing much the same; Dean grinned at him then laced their fingers together, tugging on his hand.

“Let’s explore,”

Cas went willingly, pointing out the bathroom with double of everything and the corner that sloped away into a shower room that had Dean making vaguely obscene noises at just on seeing. They walked back out again, taking in and admiring the width of the furniture suite, the frankly enormous bed that had them both stop and giggle at as though either the champagne was already working its magic or they had both regressed to about fifteen. Which, Dean reflected, for Cas, would be really, _really_ difficult.

“Whaddya reckon’s out there?” Dean said, nodding his chin in the direction of the glass doors to one side of the room. Cas shrugged and they walked over hand in hand, still holding on to their champagne as Dean pushed the door open with his elbow and pulled him outside.

“Charlie. Dude,”

“I think we owe her a lot of thank yous, Dean,”

Dean nodded, taking in the decking area that led up to a small hot tub, turning to his left to take in the view out over the city and whistle, then led Cas up the three steps so that they could inspect the tub better. “We’re talking first editions of _everything_ kinda thank you’s here,”

Cas nodded, looking around them smiling and then back up at Dean.

Dean pulled Cas to him then, looping his arms low around Cas’ waist and leaning in to kiss him. “You. Me. Tonight. We’ll get more champagne, sit here, make out under the stars. How’s that sound?”

Cas gave a slow nod, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth and himself right up against Dean. “Perfect. Although if you would prefer beer—”

“Beer’s for tomorrow. Today’s a celebrating kinda day,” Dean said, cupping a hand under Cas’ jaw to kiss him again then winked, taking his hand again and walking them back over to look out at their view.

“We should send Charlie a picture,” Cas said after a moment of them both looking out and breathing in deep.

“Selfie time,” Dean smiled, reaching for his phone then pulling Cas back against him, angling the phone until he was happy he’d got both of them in along with the champagne and as much of the background view as they could. Cas grumbled without meaning it, smiling for the click of the camera then leaning in to read what Dean was typing in the message.

“You should tell her we are very grateful,”

“I’ll _tell_ her we plan on making use of every single surface in the room, and out of it,” Dean said, giving a dirty chuckle that had Cas laughing and pressing his head into Dean’s chest, looking up at him with his cheeks a distinct shade of red.

“I mean. We’ll try,” Dean amended, winking, his smile splitting wider as that shade of red hitched up another notch.

“I am not sure Charlie would wish to know—”

“She’s gonna assume anyway. She’s gonna assume a whole lotta things that—that we probably haven’t even thought of yet,” Dean amended, laughing to himself. Charlie, to Dean’s constant amusement, had the filthiest mind of just about anyone he knew, and could even make _him_ blush on occasion with some of the things she came out with. It was the innocent way she said them though, not the actual words, that made them sound so thoroughly obscene.

A soft whine of embarrassment rippled its way out of Cas then, and he dropped his head on to Dean’s chest as though trying to hide his face here.

“Hey,” Dean said, dropping a kiss on the back of Cas’ head and smiling as he lifted it. “No one says we gotta do anything. No one says we gotta tell anyone anything either. We could sit here for the next three days and watch the director’s cut editions of all three Lord of the Rings _and_ the Hobbit; no one’s business but ours, okay?”

“Politely ignoring the _messages_ we are both going to receive from Sam and Charlie,” Cas added sounding almost wistful, before raising an eyebrow and laughing.

“You forgot about Jody and Donna. And Claire—”

“Claire,” Cas said at the same time, his eyes dropping closed painfully as though he was imagining all of her teasing in particular. She had been particularly amused by the fact he and Dean were finally _getting their heads outta their asses_ , sending long strings of emojis suggesting things Dean did not want to think about coming out of the teenager’s mind.

Dean snorted at the thought, resting his arms loosely over Cas’ shoulders. “C’mon, man, they’re _happy_ for us. ‘S all,”

“I am still attempting to adjust to the idea that being _happy_ for someone means to tease them mercilessly until it is impossible to make eye contact with anyone we know,” Cas countered, grumbling though wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist as best he could with the half-full glass of champagne still in one hand.

“Well,” Dean said, standing straight and taking another mouthful from his own glass, and nodding his chin to show Cas he wanted to go back inside. “Our phones are on silent. We’ve got enough supplies so we needn’t leave this room until we have to, _unless_ we want to. And we can order in room service so we don’t have to set a foot outside until we leave. I say that’s cause for celebration and not caring about all that stuff,”

Cas looked down at his extended hand then slotted his fingers through Dean’s, allowing him to tow him back inside.

“Might as well unpack first,” Dean said, already heading for the bag with things in intended for the fridge. He emptied the bag into the small fridge in the corner of the room, giving a happy cheer to find another two bottles of champagne in there as well as a freezer shelf in the top with more ice cubes in, and in his head thanked Charlie all over again.

Cas, meanwhile, carefully unpacked their clothes, and put the rest of their food purchases on one of the many shelves in the multi-use unit that covered another wall of their room. Dean came over to help him halfway through, though his idea of helping was more of wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist and pressing kisses into his shoulder and neck, all done without spilling a drop of the glass still in his hand.

“What?” Dean laughed when Cas turned and huffed at him in amused exasperation. “Just making up for lost time,”

“In the past few days we have been doing nothing _but_ making up for lost time,” Cas pointed out, though wrapped his own arms around Dean’s waist now and leaned into him to show he wasn’t really complaining in the slightest about that.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “But you and me, we got _years_ of this stuff to catch up on,”

“Are you suggesting that we get it all out of our system all at once, Dean?” Cas laughed, grinning back at him as Dean drained his glass and walked Cas backward so he could stoop to pick Cas’ up and press it into his hand, telling him to drink up.

“Top up?” Dean called over his shoulder already slipping from his grasp and walking back to the ice bucket. “And no, not all at once; we wouldn’t be able to move for a _month_ if we tried that,”

Cas smiled again, holding his glass out for Dean to refill. “I am sure Sam would object to that,”

“Not really thinking about Sam right now, Cas,” Dean said, screwing up his face a little. “‘Sides. Why would _he_ care, he’s not here to see it. Pretty sure he’s happy for the, uh, _quiet_ having us here for a few days,”

“We have not done anything that could be classed as making a noise,” Cas objected, though his cheeks threatened the tiniest amount of pink as he said it.

“That’s…. Mostly true,” Dean nodded, tacking on the word _yet_ to the end of Cas’ sentence because he knew they were both thinking it. “Still. He’s walked in on us often enough already to—”

“Kissing, Dean,” Cas protested, outright blushing all over again, “We were merely—”

“Making out like horny teenagers ‘stead of cooking the dinner I told him I would,” Dean grinned, ducking to kiss him yet again. “That’s the one that got to him, not all the rest,”

Cas opened his mouth to protest again then snapped it shut, dropping his shoulders a touch and admitting defeat.

“Think it’s been a long week for him, putting up with us,” Dean said then, finally having the grace to blush a little himself. It _had_ been a long week; he and Cas had returned from the hotel Cas had taken and the second they’d got through the bunker door Dean had crowded Cas back against it and kissed him hard, only stopping because of the amused clearing of a throat behind them that announced Sam had beaten them back there by about an hour.

Three days had passed, with Sam shouting things like, “ _I can hear you slurping from out here_ ,” every time he passed their room—because Dean already thought of _his_ room as _theirs_ , despite Cas still keeping his own as they’d agreed—and untactfully sliding ‘how to’ articles about sex across to Dean on his tablet every time he sat down at the table as though he’d bookmarked a ton of them in preparation for just this and was working through the list one by one just to mess with him.

Thinking about it, Dean grimaced to himself, it had been a hell of a long week for _him_ too, putting up with all of _that_. Not that he minded really, thinking that both Sam deserved to have his fun and Cas deserved to have, well, _him_. Since that was apparently what he wanted.

Dean grinned to himself at that, making Cas’ eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

“Nothing,” Dean said easily, taking a sip of champagne and then kissing him a little messily. But his thoughts were elsewhere already, back to their date night that he’d fretted over in secret for those first three days back at the bunker, stumbled his way through as though it was the most terrifying experience of his life.

Cas had sat through Dean behaving completely out of character in his nervousness, stumbling unnecessarily over the order at the ridiculously expensive restaurant he’d insisted on, and acting so prim and properly though still tugging at the knot in his tie in discomfort, until Cas had had enough and snapped.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas had all but growled, fisting his hand firmly in Dean’s shirt and pressing up against him so hard that the chair squeaked violently across the floor in protest, then kissed him so filthily that a passing waitress’s tray had wobbled to see it and she’d dropped the entire thing.

Cas had pulled away, glaring at the waitress for her interruption before turning back on Dean and quietly seething, “ _this is not_ us _,_ ” before signaling a passing waiter, demanding their bill immediately and all but dragging Dean out of there and into the nearest bar.

Cas had had a point, Dean grinned, remembering the rest of the date in greater detail; strolling hand in hand, making out up against the Impala, and stumbling back to the bunker actually _giggling_ hours later, only for Sam to look up at them wearily from one of the tables he was reading at and mumbling for them to _please, get a room_ , which Cas had for some reason at the time found hilarious.

Dean had also found Cas’ behavior hotter than anything he’d ever dared imagined, but that was another point entirely.

“Thinking about our date,” Dean admitted, smiling. Cas nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of his champagne.

“That was several days ago now, Dean,”

“It was,”

“I think we proved that we did not necessarily _need_ a first date,”

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still go out sometimes, though, does it?” Dean smiled, Cas giving an answering grin immediately.

“Of course we should. Doing things that are decidedly _us_ from now on, however,”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, Cas, you know you don’t gotta be smug about being right all the time you know,”

“I do,” Cas disagreed, pressing himself hard against Dean as he kissed him, opening it up a little until Dean was stumbling back. “Especially when I am right about the things I am right about,”

“That makes no sense,”

“It makes perfect sense,”

“Like what?”

“I was right about _you_ ,” Cas said, grinning triumphantly. “I was right about _us_. I was right about _this_ ,”

Cas wound his fingers through Dean’s hair then, holding him exactly where he wanted to kiss him thoroughly, darting his tongue into Dean’s mouth and making him stumble backward even further.

“I have every reason to be smug about that,” Cas smirked, pulling back and draining his glass, before reaching for the bottle and gesturing at Dean to do the same so he could fill both of their glasses once more.

“Smartass,”

Dean waited for Cas to fill their glasses and put the bottle down again before ducking and kissing Cas just as hard as he’d just done. Cas gave a pleased little huff, looping his free arm around Dean’s neck and giving back as good as he got.

Dean groaned at the feel of Cas grinding himself insistently against him, still surprised at himself for managing to keep his hands to himself these past few days in an effort to wait for them being alone here at this hotel. It had been another unspoken agreement between them; Dean had taken a deep breath and braced himself for Charlie’s teasing and called her, asking her to make the arrangements, having been so impressed with what she’d managed for Cas in such a short space of time. Then he’d turned to Cas, whispered his intentions and been pressed back against the kitchen counter and kissed senseless for his troubles.

Which was how Dean knew Cas apparently approved of the idea.

Which is also when Sam had walked in expecting dinner and found them wrapped around each other instead, Dean grinned, spreading a hand over Cas’ ass and grinding back against him.

“So we’re here,” Dean said stating the very obvious after a minute, licking his way into Cas’ mouth insistently and smiling around Cas’ hum of approval.

“I had noticed,” Cas grinned, chasing his tongue and making Dean stutter with the intent of it.

“It’s… we’ve had a lot of this champagne already,” Dean stuttered. Cas pulled back to look at the glass in his hand and tipped it back, drinking what was left in one go, looking at Dean’s glass as though he expected him to do the same again.

“Yes we have. This bottle is empty,”

“Looks like Charlie ordered us two more in the fridge,”

“Looks like Charlie has plans to get us very drunk this evening,” Cas smiled, taking Dean’s glass and putting both of them down on the cabinet behind him.

“This evening?” Dean laughed, “Barely lunchtime and we’ve drank a whole bottle already,”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, sliding his hands up and under Dean’s shirt and smiling as his skin rippled in anticipation.

“Maybe we should eat something,” Dean stumbled out, swallowing nervously, which seemed to make Cas thoroughly amused.

“Dean,” Cas mumbled against his mouth, flicking his tongue out for a second and smirking at the answering gasp, “It sounds to me as though you are stalling for time,”

“I’m—I’m not _stalling_ ,” although that was exactly what he was doing. Dean couldn’t really pinpoint _why_ , although he did keep on telling himself how important it was to get this right. To make things perfect. “I’m just… I—”

“Dean,” Cas smiled, kissing him a lot more chastely this time, “We are in no hurry. It… feels good being able to do this. That is all,”

“Nothing stopping us doing this back home, you know,” Dean winked, though he got exactly what Cas was meaning.

“I know,” Cas agreed, “however you are correct. We should eat. Before we become further distracted,”

“Here?”

“I think we should try the restaurant downstairs,” Cas mused, tilting his head in that way that never failed to have Dean fighting back a grin.

“Oh you do?” Dean asked, sliding his hands into Cas’ jean pockets and pulling.

“I do,” Cas nodded, smiling. “We are likely not going to want to leave our room again once… once we begin,”

Dean’s grip tightened on Cas then and his legs actually trembled; Cas grinned at him wickedly then glanced his lips over Dean’s in an almost-kiss that had him stuttering forward for more.

Wordlessly, Dean let Cas grip around his wrists, pull his hands from his pockets, and slipped his hand into Dean’s, checking he had their room key then tugging Dean towards the door.

* * *

“Can’t believe Charlie managed to swing us this place,”

Dean looked up at the now dark sky, stretched his legs out in the warm water and flexed his toes, grinning over at Cas from across the tub before turning slightly and draining the last of his glass.

“She is the _queen_ ,” Cas smiled, mirroring Dean’s actions, then stretching his arms out along the tub’s edge before tipping his head back and resting it there, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh of utter contentment.

Lunch had been an indulgent, slow affair, followed by an impromptu walk because they were both so full. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon half dozing and half watching something on the TV, before both feeling wide awake again and deciding on the tub. They’d helped each other out of their shirts and jeans, fingers and mouths stroking over stretches of skin until there were bulges in their boxers they both tactfully worked around but both had their eyes drawn to more than once. Dean had grabbed the champagne, ducking back for the glasses as an afterthought, and Cas had slid his hands over Dean’s back and followed him out. They had been in there ever since; neither were particularly interested in how much time had passed, wrapped around and pressed up against one another most of the time, and this interspersed with short breaks like the one they were having now.

“Been over there too long, man,” Dean said, reaching his hand out and watching as Cas lifted his head back up and watched him from across the tub. Extending his own hand until he was gripping on to the ends of Dean’s fingers, Cas used that leverage to pull himself up and across to him, settling in a straddle over Dean’s lap.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, tilting his head up to be kissed. Cas did just that, pressing his fingers lightly against Dean’s neck and sliding down over his shoulders until his fingertips were teasing over his nipples, before drifting away again and curling over and through Dean’s hair. Dean’s own hands were around Cas’ waist, pulling and positioning him just the way he wanted with Cas circling his hips a little as he slid his tongue lazily into Dean’s willing mouth.

Dean rocked up against him earning a small, pleased moan from Cas. Cas’ hips circled a little harder as Dean continued rolling his until they found a rhythm where they both were moaning and feeling each other grow hard as they pressed more insistently up against one another.

Their kiss continued, sloppy and breathless as their moans became more desperate and their movements just as frantic. Dean shifted his hand from his grip around Cas’ waist, inching his thumb closer to Cas’ hardness, pulling away just for a second to silently ask for permission. Cas swallowed, nodded, groaned as Dean stroked his thumb along his shaft through his boxers. Dean wrapped his fingers around like that, pulling a little, sucking Cas’ tongue into his mouth and continuing to roll his hips up against him.

“We’re… we’re prob’ly too drunk to… you know,” Dean gasped, tearing his mouth away to stare down at Cas in his grip under the water, squeezing a little and his breath catching at Cas’ answering groan. “But we can still do… stuff,”

Cas grinned, flicking his tongue against Dean’s mouth once then standing up, grabbing hold of Dean to keep himself upright. Keeping his eyes firmly on Dean’s Cas slotted his fingers into the edge of his boxers, shoving them down and stepping out of them as best as he could manage in the water and with the added problem of the champagne making him wobble. Dean held him up, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open at the sight of Cas hard and erect just inches from his mouth.

“Cas,” he whimpered, reaching out and wrapping his hand around him once more, whimpering again at Cas’ groan and the way his hands flew to Dean’s shoulders to steady himself. “Cas… can I?”

Cas’ eyes fell down to Dean licking his lips, seeming unable to force his gaze away from his cock. Cas shifted forward a touch, until there was less than an inch between Dean’s mouth and his cockhead; Dean darted out his tongue to lick a swipe there and Cas’ fingers curled hard into Dean’s shoulders. Dean flicked his tongue out again experimentally, and again, tilting his head and changing his angle until he was swirling his tongue repeatedly over him, smirking up occasionally at Cas’ groans.

Dean shifted then, bringing his hands up to grip on to Cas’ ass, chasing his head with his tongue until it was slipping into his mouth for Dean to suckle. He swirled his tongue there, two, three times, before pulling off with a loud popping sound then pressing a kiss to his tip, sliding his tongue along Cas’ slit, and swallowing Cas’ cock down as far as he could.

Cas whimpered out Dean’s name brokenly, with Dean guiding him to thrust into his mouth, lapping up his leaking precum and pulling off to mouth over his head again before swallowing him back down.

“I… Dean I can’t… I can’t last, I—”

Dean sucked harder, moaning around Cas’ shaft as best he could, gripping on to him tighter and telling Cas that he was going nowhere.

Cas thrust a little firmer into Dean’s mouth, his breaths coming out more desperate, and then he was tensing, spilling on to Dean’s tongue and down his throat, curling over him with a cry and half hanging there, trembling his way through his orgasm as Dean both held him up and licked him clean.

When Cas could stand again a little less shakily Dean grinned up at him and winked. Cas sank back down to sit on his lap looking dazed, and wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, kissing the side of his head and dropping his head down against his arm, groaning softly to himself.

“I did not last very long,” Cas mumbled, shifting as Dean adjusted to have him sat more comfortably on his legs.

“Cas,” Dean laughed, nudging at him to get him to sit up a bit and look at him, “We’ve both been drinking like… all afternoon almost. And it’s champagne, not beer; we’re lucky we’ve lasted this long without coming in our pants already,”

Cas hummed, considering this information, and his face transformed from one that was disappointed with himself to one of quiet plotting; Dean didn’t know what that was about but he sure wasn’t going to object when Cas cradled his face between his hands and kissed him hard, and filthy.

“It is your turn now, Dean,” Cas whispered against him suddenly, standing and hoisting Dean to his feet, yanking down his boxers as Dean teetered unsteadily then grabbed him around the waist, lifting him what seemed like effortlessly until he was sat on the edge of the tub.

“Cas,” Dean barked out laughing, but the laughter died on his lips as Cas wriggled his way between Dean’s legs and used his hands to lift and press them apart.

“Lay back,”

Dean didn’t need a second telling; he shifted until comfortable, a thrill rushing through him at the thought of being under the open sky with his legs splayed open and Cas’ head between them. Cas pressed a kiss to his inner thigh; Dean’s whole body jolted. Cas pressed his thighs apart a little more and pressed almost sweet kisses over his balls until Dean was whimpering. Then he was licking a stripe up from Dean’s base, along his shaft, sucking him down without any pretense as Dean howled out stutteringly at the sudden wet heat engulfing him.

Cas pulled off for a second, grinning at him triumphantly then dove back in again, sucking Dean all in in one go, holding him in place with spread palms over his stomach pushing him down and his elbows against his thighs to keep them open. Cas lapped at him making these small sounds of enjoyment that were just as much a contribution to Dean coming far too soon for his own liking as the very real fact that Cas had his cock in his mouth in the first place.

Dean juddered, shooting into Cas’ mouth and moaning, with Cas lapping it all up and still licking until Dean was squirming with overstimulation. Cas pulled back, pressing a final kiss to Dean’s head then straightening up, hands trailing down his thighs and off, holding lightly to the edge of the tub between Dean’s legs as he waited for Dean to come back to him.

Dean raised his head to look at Cas in utter disbelief then dropped his head back down with a groan, making Cas chuckle as he climbed the steps out of the hot tub and held out his hand to Dean.

“It feels too cold to be out here completely naked if we are not in the tub, Dean. We should go inside,”

Dean lifted his arm from where it had been covering his face to look at Cas’ extended hand, and used it to help pull himself to his feet. Once up he was lightly gripping on to Cas’ shoulders, kissing him with another whimper and dropping his head down on his shoulder temporarily before raising it and shaking, as though to clear a fog. Then he was leading Cas back inside and into the bathroom, straight into the shower stall and under the hot spray where they kissed lazily until too sleepy to continue standing.

They dried each other just as lazily, stood side by side to brush their teeth, kissed again there at the sink and grinned idiotically at one another in the mirror with the effects of the alcohol very clearly still there. Dean wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the room as Cas used the toilet, drawing the line at being there with him for that and using the time to step back outside and clear up a little. He came back in and smiled to see Cas already slipping beneath the duvet, used the bathroom himself then slid into the bed beside him, moaning in appreciation at the feel of all of Cas’ naked skin pressed up against his own.

Soft kisses followed, before Cas rolled to turn out the bedside light, settling himself down in Dean’s arms and pressing another kiss to his sternum. Dean listened as Cas’ breathing evened, signalling him falling asleep, dropped a kiss down on the top of his head and allowed his eyes to close, immediately falling asleep himself.

* * *

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

“We… did we suck each other off in the tub out there last night?”

Cas’ head lifting blearily from his chest to look at Dean as though he neither believed nor approved of Dean’s interruption of his sleep was almost enough to make Dean laugh. Almost; Cas dropped his head back down with a thud and wriggled against him, pausing when he clearly brushed up against Dean’s morning wood to give a pleased hum, then settled back down again with a softly blasted out breath dancing across Dean’s skin.

“Yes, Dean. I was there for that,” Cas followed up his answer with a kiss to Dean’s chest, an almost absent flick of his tongue out over his nipple before turning his head and laying it back down, humming again in contentment.

“And you’re not… not mad?” Dean asked, knowing exactly how small and doubtful his voice sounded; not that he had a choice in that.

Cas’ head raised up slowly again, his eyebrow hitched high with its incredulity, making Dean shift a little in awkwardness under the shrewdness of his gaze.

“I am fairly certain neither of us were complaining at the time,”

“I know,” Dean agreed, reaching out to stroke his hands over Cas’ skin and feeling instant reassurance from doing that; particularly as Cas stretched against him in response just like the cat he’d secretly come to think Cas to be.

“Neither am I complaining now, Dean,” Cas added, running his lips over Dean’s nipple again and smiling as it hardened, then leaning over to pay the same attention to the other before laying his head down again and closing his eyes.

“You’re not?”

The doubt in Dean’s voice seemed to provoke Cas, who sighed against his skin impatiently then propped his chin up on Dean’s chest, staring up at him and waiting for an explanation.

“You’re _not_?” Dean repeated, finding it impossible to keep the anxiousness from his voice.

“Dean. What would I have to complain about?”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh, stroking his hands over Cas’ skin in an attempt to calm himself. “I just… I don’t know,”

“Dean,”

“After all this waiting that… that _I’ve_ had us doing… I just… I kinda thought our first… you know. Sexual experience together would be a bit… _more_ than that,” Dean felt foolish, and so small right in that moment that he didn’t think he could actually look Cas in the eye.

Cas’ hot huff of breath against him was followed almost instantly by Cas straddling Dean’s thighs, circling his hips with a pleased hum at the feel of them brushing together and then pitching forward, pinning Dean there with his hands firmly pressing Dean’s trapped ones back against the mattress.

“If you think for a moment that I have _any_ complaints,” Cas started, bending and nipping at Dean’s earlobe before mouthing not-so-gently at his neck and sitting back up again, “about any of the things that have happened between us,”

Cas paused, stirring his hips insistently so that their cocks started catching and dragging together in the most delicious, lazy kind of way before huffing and continuing with, “Then you are very, very mistaken,”

“I—”

Dean’s attempt at protest against Cas’ words, _not_ his actions, was cut off with a hard kiss as Cas bent over him again then stood up without warning, stretched to give Dean a very pleasant view, then wandered over to the bathroom, leaving Dean to sink back into the mattress and allow himself to cautiously smile.

“I would like breakfast,” Cas announced, striding back into the room looking as comfortable and confident as though he were fully clothed. Dean supposed he’d be striding about just the same if he looked even half as good as Cas did. But when he swung his feet out of the bed and stretched as he stood up, and Cas’ eyes drifted over him with clear lust in his eyes, Dean figured he couldn’t look that bad after all. At least, not bad to Cas.

“We could—”

“I need bacon. And eggs. And… coffee,” Cas continued, looking at Dean speculatively, all but restlessly tapping his foot at the speed Dean wasn’t moving at.

“ _There’s_ my grumpy Cas,” Dean teased, sidling up to him with a smirk. “Kind of demanding now you’ve had your way with me, huh?”

Cas huffed, leaning in and kissing him quickly before turning away again and bending to pick up his jeans from yesterday, making Dean wince at the thought of how hard going to the bathroom was going to be now after such a show.

“Going somewhere, Cas?”

“Yes,”

“Uh… care to share?”

Cas turned around to him then with an impatient sigh, still buttoning his jeans and giving him a look that said he thought Dean was being purposely stupid.

“There is a buffet breakfast downstairs, if you remember. I planned on us bringing food up here and hoped you would come with me since I don’t think I can balance everything I want on one tray. If you would prefer, however, we can eat downstairs. Instead of up here, within seconds of our bed. And a lack of clothing,”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed of its own accord as Cas turned away again, grabbing up a shirt that turned out to be Dean’s. Shrugging into it anyway, he turned back to Dean still gaping at him and rolled his eyes, stepping forward for another kiss.

“Dean—”

“Give me two minutes,” Dean said hastily, coming back to him and dressing in record time.

* * *

Breakfast in their room turned out to be a great idea, Dean thought, with Cas shedding his clothes the second they were through the door and staring Dean down until he did the same. Cas had hummed in approval at seeing that then set out their food on the table, where they sat to eat side by side as though they weren’t both completely naked.

Not _completely_ as though they were completely naked, Dean amended, thinking about the way Cas’ hand had slid out over his thigh and dropped between his legs, wrapping around his suddenly-interested cock and leaving him fighting not to choke on the food he’d just shoveled into his mouth. Cas had grinned at him wickedly and pulled back, taking a bite of his own food before blatantly adjusting himself and having Dean near choking all over again.

That had all been before Cas had led him over to the couch and settled himself on Dean’s lap. “We do not want to give ourselves indigestion, Dean,” Cas had said with a solemn grin ruined entirely by the way his eyes sparkled, but that hadn’t stopped him writhing there a little and kissing Dean in exactly the way he knew would get him instantly aroused. And the moment Dean started straining against him Cas’ fist was around him, pumping slowly, making him whimper softly into Cas’ mouth.

Cas shifted then, lining himself up with Dean with a groan and taking them both in his hand, swiping up their leaking precum on his palm and sliding it down for a slightly slicker grip. Cas hummed to himself in approval at how good that felt and then began thrusting, grunting as he glanced down to watch himself. Dean’s head fell back with a moan before he forced himself to look down at them in Cas’ fist as well, feeling himself twitch hard at seeing them like that before linking his fingers in the gaps between Cas’ and moaning out a little harder at the feel of _that_.

Cas continued to writhe and moan on Dean’s lap, the pace unhurried as the warmth of their arousal built steadily for them both. Dean’s other hand slid to the base of Cas’ neck and kept him in place as Dean kissed him, breaking away only to grin at him before diving back in.

“Want you, Cas,” Dean stuttered out a few minutes later, reaching down to pull their hands away from their cocks and giving a shuddering gasp as he did. “I want you, so much,”

Dean watched as the remaining blue dropped away from Cas’ eyes in lust, and his throat constricted around an awkward swallow before Cas shifted there on his lap, resting his hands on Dean’s draped over his thighs.

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asked, his voice lower and catching there as he tried to speak.

“All of it,” Dean admitted, ducking and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I want all of it. You. All of _you_. Every which way _you_ wanna do it. I just… I _need_ you, Cas,”

Cas groaned at that, falling forwards a little and claiming Dean’s mouth all over again in a desperate kiss. “Less talking… more _doing_ , Dean,”

“Then can I… Can I take you back to bed?”

Cas was standing immediately, with Dean following him just as quickly and cupping his face up into a kiss. Dean smiled when he pulled back from him, gently slotting their hands together and pulling him along until they were stood at the foot of their bed.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas from behind, pressing kisses up the length of his shoulder that had Cas shuddering and bringing his arms up to cover Dean’s over his chest. Dean kept up the kisses, kissing a path up the side of his neck, biting down softly there before flicking his tongue out over it, then did the same up the back, smiling as Cas shuddered.

Dropping one hand from beneath Cas’ grip, Dean wrapped his hand around Cas’ cock, smiling into his skin as Cas jolted, and pressing his hardness in the gap of Cas’ cheeks to tease there insistently as well. Cas stuttered again, falling forward a little but Dean pulling him upright meant Cas easily fell straight back against his chest.

“You know, Cas, usually, when I let myself think about _being_ with you like this,” Dean whispered into Cas’ ear just before biting down on the lobe of it and pressing a kiss to the shell, “Usually, I get myself off thinking ‘bout how you’d feel—how you’d feel inside of me,” as if to remind himself of those very fantasies Dean felt a clenching ache inside himself that was suddenly desperate to be filled.

All in good time, he told himself, feeling Cas’ cock jerk in his hand at his words, all in good time.

“But I gotta be honest,” Dean added, bending and biting down a little on Cas’ neck, hardening himself a little more at the gasp Cas gave on feeling that, “Right now, I really, really wanna… I really wanna… _fuck_ , let me be inside you, Cas,”

“Dean,” Cas said with an urgency that had Dean stuttering forward and tightening his grip.

In a rush they were falling on to the bed with Cas turning over immediately to face Dean and rocking up against him.

“I want that,” Cas urged into his ear as he seemed determined to kiss every bit of skin he could get to. “I want that,”

“Cas,” A whisper and then Dean was pulling Cas closer, reaching to grab just beneath his knee and gently drape it over himself, sliding his hand back up Cas’ thigh and coming to a stop over his ass, pressing there softly.

Ducking down for a kiss, Dean swept his fingers down, the tips finding first the wrinkled surface of his balls which he stroked over lightly before pressing and rubbing two fingertips against his perineum. Cas moaned, giving an unconscious roll of his hips and pressing his cock into Dean’s side; Dean shuddered when he felt that, especially as it was followed by a rush of coolness that told him of the leak of precum there against his skin.

Keeping his fingers moving, Dean spread Cas’s cheeks a little and teased a circle over his hole, making Cas stutter forward all over again. He circled again, and once more, pressing a little insistently and keeping his finger held there, angling his mouth down to claim another kiss.

Cas arched back, pressing himself against Dean’s finger, and whimpering quietly against his lips.

“Please,”

Dean let out a tortured gasp of air, swirling his tongue into Cas’ mouth urgently before rolling back a little still with a firm grip around Cas with one arm, and reaching back behind to the drawer beside the bed with his other. Frantically patting his hand for the only thing he’d actually put in the draw, Dean’s fingers finally snagged and wrapped around the bottle of lube, turning back to Cas and holding it steady for Cas to pop open the cap.

Cas took the bottle from Dean’s fingers then and turned it, squeezing and drizzling it out onto Dean’s waiting hand. Dean made a fist, warming it, gesturing for more so he could coat his fingers, then waited as Cas pressed the bottle against his side to close the lid again and put it above them but still within reach.

With a nervous swallow, Dean shifted his hand down again, thinking for a second about shifting position to make this easier, but the way Cas raised his leg to hook it higher and give Dean easier access to him told Dean he wasn’t moving anywhere. Dean spread him open again, coating the entire area surrounding his hole slickly before pressing a finger there until the tip slid easily inside.

Cas wriggled, insinuating for more; Dean carefully continued to slide that one finger in, working it in and out again and feeling himself twitch and leak at Cas’ answering moan. Cas stretched his neck up and kissed Dean hard, tilting his hips back and circling them as Dean continued to press inside him.

“More, Dean, quickly,” Cas urged, making Dean grin.

“No hurry, Cas,” he reminded him with a gentler kiss; Cas shook his head and claimed a harder one, breathing out in relief as with the withdrawal of one finger Dean slid in and added second.

Cas all but impaled himself on Dean then, rutting and rucking back and circling until he was letting out a trembling gasp and pressing himself down harder.

“There. Dean, there,”

Dean did as he was told, rewarded by Cas’ whimper and grateful kisses over his face, clearly far too distracted to aim for only his mouth.

Dean pumped his fingers into Cas, careful to continue to get that angle that had Cas lurching forward with a whimper each and every time. With every scissoring open with his fingers Cas dropped his head with a gasp, the effort to keep his head up becoming too much.

Cas shifted his leg higher still; Dean had to close his eyes at just how flexible Cas appeared to be in that moment and instead concentrated on carefully pressing in a third finger alongside the others, his cock giving a violent twitch at Cas’ breathy _oh_ as he did.

Dean continued to work him open, determined Cas would be as ready as he could possibly be for this, until Cas’ continual babbling of _need_ and _want_ and _now_ and _please_ had him half delirious, withdrawing his fingers altogether and wrapping his hand around Cas’ knee again, pushing him gently on to his back.

Dean crawled between Cas’ legs, bending and licking over Cas’ cock, red and so erect it looked painful, with precum dribbling out at what seemed to be a constant rate. Dean’s tongue over his head had Cas scrabbling his fingers at the sheets and spreading his legs even further; Dean had to drop his head down on Cas’ chest and give himself a moment to calm at seeing that.

Dean kissed his way up Cas’ chest, kissing him slow and gently as he reached above his head to retrieve the bottle of lube Cas had slotted against the pillow earlier. Kneeling back, Dean dropped the bottle down to the side for a second and pressed Cas’ thighs apart, taking a moment to thoroughly appreciate the view Cas was presenting him then grabbing for the bottle and slicking himself up, carefully keeping his thoughts on anything but what he was about to do, so that he’d actually _be_ able to do what he intended.

Dean pressed his thumbs either side of Cas’ hole then, his eyes fluttering closed at the slick redness there just waiting for him. Then he was shifting, pressing his tip against Cas’ hole until it gave, swallowing it up until his entire head had disappeared inside.

Dean bit down on the moan, pulling his hips back gently, released it as he watched the way his head caught and pulled against Cas’ rim. He rocked there a couple of times to see that, before sliding Cas’ legs up and open more, and rocking himself all the way inside him with a single shuddering groan.

Cas’ chest raised and fell erratically, his mouth still forming that _oh_ and only the slightest sounds escaping from his lips. He hurriedly reached out for Dean, pulling until Dean was hovering above him and having to drop his grip on Cas’ legs. Cas wrapped them high around him and his arms around Dean’s back, trembling as he gathered Dean as close as possible to him.

Dean mumbled his name once, withdrawing himself slowly before stroking back in, the tight heat of Cas making him feel a little heady. He did it again, carefully watching Cas’ expression and having to lean down and claim a kiss. Cas stuttered and rolled up to meet him making Dean groan out at how unbelievably good that felt, ducking and finding himself biting down on Cas’ neck as he picked up speed.

Dean forced his head up, determined to catch every single expression on Cas’ face as he stroked into him, noting the judder when the angle was right and the soft sigh that happened every time Dean stilled and held himself deep inside him.

Dean kept things slow for as long as he possibly could. But Cas writhing beneath him and rucking up to meet every thrust just urged him on for more, and faster, and when Cas wrapped fingers around his own cock and began to work himself, all Dean could do was utter a _fuck_ before picking up the pace even more, chasing down that heat inside himself that was building from being inside Cas.

Closer, and closer still; the room filled with nothing but the soft sounds of the mattress being well and truly pounded, the soft thud of skin slapping against slicked up skin, and desperate moans and stutters escaping from their lips.

Cas picked up his pace, his body tensing up around Dean and telling him he was close; Dean managed to pick it up another notch and dug his fingers into the mattress above Cas’ shoulders, feeling Cas’ own curving into his skin hard enough to leave marks that he would get to inspect later.

Dean kept his eyes open and on Cas’ smiling down at him through every gasp and groan, even when the pleasure coiled in his core just ready to boil over, wanting Cas to see him when he came just as much as he wanted to see Cas.

Cas’ eyes grew wide, rolling up a little as his mouth gaped open and he arched up with a shudder, spurts of come hitting Dean’s chest and his hole fluttering around Dean’s cock, just enough for Dean to need to give two, three more strokes and then tense up hard inside him, coming in an intense wave and keeping his eyes on Cas’ the entire time.

Dean moaned brokenly then, collapsing on top of Cas and laying there for a second before folding his arms in, pressing himself at every point possible to Cas, and Cas arching appreciatively beneath him as he wrapped his arms higher around Dean’s neck.

Dean nuzzled into him, pressing not-exactly apologetic kisses to the bruise he’d sucked into Cas’ neck, dropping his head down there with a guttural, open-mouthed moan that blasted hot air at Cas’ cheek and had him shivering almost full bodily.

Dean raised his head then and began kissing Cas with these soft, thankful little kisses that seemed to curl Cas’ mouth up into smile after smile as they nuzzled at and showered each other with affection. Dean lazily circled his hips, the drag of him inside Cas making them both give low moans of approval, all whilst keeping up those soft kisses that seemed to either be stopping or speeding up time.

Dean kissed Cas extra sweetly as he slowly withdrew himself, glancing down at the mess smeared on their stomachs and then back up at Cas, claiming yet another kiss. Dean mumbled at Cas not to move, kneeling his way off the bed to grab one of the hand towels in the bathroom and run it under a faucet, washing himself down quickly at the sink, glancing in the mirror and catching his own sated, happy grin that made him almost not recognize himself. Then he was walking back to and crawling on the bed, cleaning Cas with a steady stream of endearments just for Cas’ ears before laying down and Cas immediately curling into him, both happy and sleepily spent.

* * *

Cas riding him in the hot tub.

Overlooking the view from their balcony, sliding into Cas from behind and quietly chuckling from well and truly distracting him from pointing something out in the distance.

Lazily on the sofa with Cas hooking his leg over Dean’s hip and Dean stroking into him in time with his hand paying the same attention to his cock.

In the shower, with Cas’ moans echoing out around the tiled walls making Dean even harder for hearing them.

At the sink, eyes on each other in the mirror as Dean draped himself over Cas.

On the hardbacked chair where Cas rode him with such enthusiasm Dean thought the chair might actually break as the legs creaked every time Cas ground himself down on to Dean’s cock.

On the bed, obviously; Cas had again proved himself correct when saying that once they _started_ neither one of them were going to want to stop. They were, after all, as Dean had pointed out, making up for lost time. And what a way to go about doing that.

Dean thought how he’d proved _himself_ right as well; that there was barely a surface left untouched in their honeymoon suite, which Dean considered to be a job well and thoroughly done. Not that it was over yet; their current make out session had gone from slow and lazy to full on frottage, Cas grinding his hips between Dean’s legs and glancing down at their heads trapped between their stomachs with a look of triumph and determination that had Dean aching to be filled.

So far that hadn’t happened, with Cas shaking his head each time and mumbling _please_ at Dean in a way that was impossible to resist. But now Dean’s own need was too great; pressing a hand onto Cas’ shoulder asking him to stop, Dean angled his hips until Cas’ head was catching and dragging over his hole, making him tremble hard and moan out a choked plea.

Cas groaned in answer, holding himself to press bluntly against Dean, angling and squeezing himself until beads of precum flooded up so that Cas could circle his slickened head over Dean’s hole and press there a little harder, the very tip dipping in a touch and Dean’s gasp turning into a desperate whine.

Cas’ head shot up from where he’d been watching himself, lust blown eyes staring down at Dean in awe, giving Dean the distinct impression that Cas had somehow thought Dean wouldn’t want him to do exactly what he was doing. Dean reached out, wrapped his hand around Cas’ shaft and kept his cockhead firmly pressed against his hole, rolling his hips so that it was half popping inside him again until Cas could be under no illusion that this was precisely what he wanted.

Cas shifted and spread his knees, leaning over Dean with a possessive groan and kissing him hard, before reaching and breaking the seal on what was now their second bottle of lube, pouring an overly generous amount over his fingers as though determined to open Dean up thoroughly and completely for him.

Dean’s hole clenched at the thought and Cas’ eyes tracked that movement, darting his gaze back up to Dean’s face with a wicked grin.

“You should have said,” Cas reprimanded, pushing Dean’s legs wider apart and draping himself over him.

“Thought I hinted enough,” Dean replied, eyes darting rapidly between Cas’ face and down to where Cas’ hand was heading. “‘Sides. Seemed like you needed it. You know. The other way round,”

“Oh I did,” Cas assured him with a nod, one finger tracing a teasing circle over Dean’s hole and making him shudder. “I also need this as well,”

Dean splayed his legs a fraction wider, smiling as Cas’ cock bounced against his knee from where Cas had trapped his leg between his. Then his eyes were unmoving, as Cas pressed into him slow and soft until his finger had disappeared entirely inside. Dean let out the choked gasp he was holding on to, eyes glancing up to Cas’ for the briefest moments before straight back down, as Cas slid his finger out again and Dean’s rim tugged back against it.

Cas also watched as he stroked back in again a couple of times, before grunting and pitching forward to claim Dean’s mouth in a hot, wet kiss, swirling his tongue into Dean’s mouth as he continued to slid his finger into his hole, copying that swirling tongue with a twist that left Dean whimpering and tightly gripping on to the bedsheets.

Cas’ kiss became more insistent as he slid another finger in, immediately scissoring Dean open wide and groaning as Dean stuttered against him. One harder twist at just the right angle inside him and Dean was trembling, shaking at the intensity of the pleasure of it yet still chasing the press of Cas’ fingers by angling his hips to impale himself a little harder.

Cas kept up his insistent kiss with every thrust and twist of his fingers, adding another, and another still despite Dean’s whimpering pleas that he was more than ready. But Dean knew Cas wouldn’t keep him waiting much longer; Cas’ cock had to be achingly hard judging by how it pressed bruisingly against Dean’s leg and leaked continuously over him.

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean tried again, raising his head to chase his kiss but angling his hips so there’d be no way for Cas not to know what he needed. Cas pulled back, eyes searching all over Dean’s face as though to be absolutely sure, then with a flurry of activity was shifting back up on to his knees, slicking himself up and moaning at that in a way that had Dean shifting himself ever closer to Cas.

Cas’ palms were hot against Dean’s cheeks as he spread them, tilting his head to look down at Dean and have to close his eyes with a desperate gasp. And then he was lining himself up, pressing but waiting for Dean’s final permission, before lurching forward and filling him in one, his balls slapping dully against Dean as they both let out a moan.

Cas stared down at Dean with wide eyes, as though he was the only one shocked by how very necessary it felt having him inside Dean. Dean squeezed around Cas’ shaft, letting out a whimper of approval at how good that felt, and Cas shifted his knees, braced himself on his elbows, rutting into Dean as though he was helpless not to be doing and claiming another kiss, cradling Dean’s face between his hands.

At first Cas kept up that gentle, practically tender pace, pulling back from Dean occasionally to beam at him with happiness. But then Dean shifted, changing the angle slightly and began rolling his hips back; Cas’ head fell forward with a thud on Dean’s shoulder, the pace picking up as though he had no control over the demands of his own body whatsoever.

As for Dean, he chased all of it; ever drag of Cas’ head over his prostate, every bite of Cas’ into his neck, every circling of his hips, every catching of his rim when Cas almost pulled himself out—everything.

In reflection, Dean thought, as that _everything_ became a touch too overwhelming, things were bound to catch up with him eventually. From all those years in denial to having his very real fantasies brought to life and seem mere passing thoughts in comparison to having the reality there with him, it wasn’t that this was all too _much_ ; it was more the thought that he genuinely couldn’t believe he got to _have_ this.

The tears leaking down his face caught them both by surprise, with Cas immediately slowing but thankfully not stopping. Dean clutched at him desperately, shaking his head and smiling; Cas’ fingers reached out to wipe the tears away and were followed by soft kisses, but Cas said nothing, seeming to understand.

As though cradling him, Cas gathered Dean that little bit closer, kissed him a touch gentler, and continued stroking into him but repeatedly glancing over his face to make absolutely sure that Dean was doing okay. And Dean loved it, all of the tender attention he hadn’t let himself know that he needed, or _wanted_ , but happily took all that Cas was offering him now.

They came together, long and slow in a gentle arch with a single joint moan, Cas’ hand around Dean’s cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts so that he could control his own release. Breathless, Cas shifted so he could press their chests together and get his hands under Dean’s thighs, insist on Dean wrapping his legs high around his waist. Then he was smiling down at him looking so utterly happy and content with himself that Dean’s arms automatically wrapped hard around him and dragged him back down for another kiss.

Cas stayed inside Dean as they kissed for longer, only slipping out eventually because he’d shifted on his knees. He looked down at the mess they’d made of each other and gently pulled Dean to his feet, guiding him into and under the shower on shaky knees and washing him worshipfully, leaning him back up against the wall out of the spray a couple of times just so that they could kiss.

And as if Cas couldn’t be tender enough with him when they’d finished their shower and he’d dried them both down, he led Dean by the hand back to the sofa settling him comfortably there with a blanket over his waist since he’d noticed Dean wasn’t as comfortable as him to be completely naked all of the time, before disappearing and returning with armfuls of snacks and a couple of beers.

Dean laughed tiredly, shaking his head and leaning over for a kiss. “You tryna be perfect or what, Cas, huh?”

“You need to know,” Cas shrugged easily, clinking their beers together and offering out an open bag of chips as he settled in comfortably beside Dean, snagging up the blanket to slide under that as well with him and grin as their skin pressed together.

“To know what?”

Cas shrugged again, but this time with a smile that was nothing but elated as he leaned in once more and whispered, “That you are loved,”

* * *

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Wouldya—get your floppy head outta my way, Sam, or I swear I’m gonna cut it all off right now,”

Sam angled his head back a final time to block Dean’s view and then ducked away with a cackle.

“Dude,” Sam said still laughing minutes later, shaking his head and grinning at Dean as though he thought Dean was an idiot. “He’s been gone like, two days. Not like anything’s gonna have changed in two days, or he’s gonna’ve forgotten what you look like or something,”

Fixing Sam with what felt like an appropriately intense glare Dean held it for a beat then looked away again impatiently, checking his watch and when that didn’t seem fast enough, checking his phone as well.

Cas’ bus wasn’t late, but neither was it doing Dean the service of being early, apparently. That Cas was even on a bus in the first place, when he’d _offered_ to drive him all the way to the damn beekeeping course retreat he’d been so excited by after Dean had handed him the print-out for it after hours of trawling the internet for it, was irritant enough to Dean. Not to mention Cas having been gone for the best part of _three_ days, not _two_ , he corrected Sam in his head, not bothering to do it out loud, knowing it would invite _comments_.

Three days might not have sounded like a lot to Sam who seemed to have developed a take it or leave it relaxed kind of thing with _Jody_ over the past few months, but it was ridiculously too long for Dean. He’d slept maybe six hours in total since he’d dropped Cas off at the bus station, staring longingly after the bus for several minutes before glumly returning home.  

Cas had sent him a few messages but he wasn’t exactly in a great spot for either wifi or phone signal. So Dean had spent these almost-three days on edge, tense, pacing and finding busy tasks for his hands, his mind constantly drifting to what Cas might be doing and how long it would be before he came back.

Dean worried that Cas wouldn’t meet people to talk to on the course, but then panicked that he _would_. He’d never tell Cas how much it bothered him when people openly flirted with him, and the thought of Cas being in close proximity with other people, probably under the influence of some honey flavored alcohol and no easy way to call home left Dean feeling unsettled. Not that he didn’t trust _Cas_ one hundred percent, because he did. But what if other people couldn’t take no for an answer, what if Cas misjudged their friendliness and got himself into a situation he couldn’t get out of, what if, what if, what—

“Snap out of it, Dean. He’ll be here. Five minutes, tops,”

Dean smiled a sickly smile in Sam’s direction and shifted his head again, wanting the perfect view for when the bus appeared.

What if the bus broke down? Dean fretted then, thinking about a bus overheating on a highway and Cas not having enough to drink, or being a stubborn bastard and not putting on the sunblock he was constantly having to remind him to use.

“You’re aware that it’s _Cas_ , right?” Sam asked, laughing incredulously. “As in _Cas_ , as in, _capable_. Not some half-frightened kitten who got lost in the dark and—”

“Back off, Sam,” Dean blasted in annoyance, “I’ll fuss and I’ll miss him all I want, ‘k?”

There was a second’s pause as Sam’s mouth contorted with suppressed laughter, and then a soft, “ _aww_ ,”

Dean glared at Sam for a third time but then pushed him to one side as he saw the bus finally pulling in behind them.

“Why’d you come with if all you were gonna do is stand there and mock me, huh, Sammy?” Dean complained, glaring at the bus until it came to a complete stop.

“You’re missing the point; that’s _exactly_ why I came along,”

A frustrated huff escaped Dean’s lips unchecked as he stretched his neck, looked to the side and around people in search of that familiar mess of hair that on seeing, Dean was sure would settle him and make him feel like himself again.

Cas stepped off of the bus and Dean’s heart stopped, barrelling forward as though unaware there were other people around him as he passed. Dean continued watching as Cas turned and smiled, talking to a couple of people that stepped off right after him, laughing at one point then nodding in agreement to something in the next.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, unnecessary jealousy licking its way through him and clenching his fists for him. He fought to clear it away but the thudding of his heart didn’t go anywhere; and he wasn’t about to start apologizing for feeling lost without Cas, not to anyone. Even if he was behaving a bit like the neanderthal Donna had laughingly accused Dean of being when they’d last met up for dinner. It hadn’t been _his_ fault that the guy next to Cas, who’d gone up to the bar to order them all more drinks, had all but grabbed his ass, Dean huffed to himself, still angry at the memory even now. So maybe Dean hadn’t _needed_ to scrape his chair back dramatically across the floor from the table where they were all sitting, charge across the room furiously, and grab and pin the guy against the wall next to the bar with such force that the guy’s eyes rolled a little as his head fell back with a dull thud, but still. He’d kind of invited it.

It was then that Cas turned, his eyes seeking out then finding Dean’s, his face splitting in to a grin that settled Dean a little even from the distance between them, pulling him very firmly back to the present. Dean’s heart sped up as he got closer, his own mouth hitching up into a smile to match Cas’, and as he came to within a few strides of him Dean had to tell himself to stop, and not to grab and kiss him as though no one else was around.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled warmly, reaching out and tangling their fingers together.

“Hey,” Dean sighed back, feeling like he was actually breathing whole, and sagged in relief, though still helpless to stop himself leaning in for a quick hello peck, damn whoever was looking or had a problem with it.

Cas introduced them all quietly, his hand remaining in Dean’s the entire time, even giving one armed hugs in parting as though he couldn’t bear to be separated from Dean even for a second.

“Had a good time?” Dean asked, swinging Cas’ holdall up onto his shoulder despite Cas’ protests and guiding him back to the car where Sam was waiting for them.

“Yes, it has been an educational and interesting weekend. I have learned many things I intend to implement in the garden as soon as I get back,” Cas enthused, gripping Dean’s hand a little more tightly.

“Maybe not the _second_ we get back, huh, Cas?” Dean said, hearing the complaint in his own voice but unable to do anything to stop it.

Cas looked about them and then brought them to a sudden halt, pressing himself up against Dean’s front and leaning up to kiss him thoroughly, a contented sigh escaping his lips the second he stepped back.

The final bit of tension Dean had been holding on to dropped away, his shoulders raising in Cas-fuelled confidence and having him walk more comfortably back to the car with Cas’ hand still firmly in his.

Cas offered a grin of greeting to Sam who answered with his own, stepping forward enthusiastically and gripping a hand around his arm before turning and diving into the back of the car, asking Cas questions a million miles a minute as Dean gestured for him to climb in as well. He stood back there, taking a moment to put Cas’ holdall in the trunk and silently watching through the window the animated way Cas talked to Sam, knowing Cas would tell him the entire thing again when they were alone, so he wasn’t in danger of missing anything.

Dean watched them both for another few moments, grinning to himself at his two favorite people, then slid into the car beside Cas and dragged his hand across to rest in his lap, turning the car out and for home.

* * *

“Hey, take it easy, alright?”

Dean frowned as Sam continued to cough, pushing the glass of water he’d just taken from the counter in front of him and patting him once or twice on the back.

“What’s got into you?”

Sam half-laughed through his coughing and reached out to grab the water, drinking it down in one gulp and wincing as his throat constricted once more, though still finding the time to wave Dean’s question away.

Dean slid back down into the seat opposite looking at him half in concern and half in suspicion; their waitress glanced over in their direction and caught Dean’s eye with a look that told him she was unimpressed with their unnecessary fussing, and Dean felt suitably chastised enough to turn away.

Cas squeezed a reassuring hand around Dean’s thigh and Dean leaned into him, gratefully accepting the comfort, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed it for or even really aware that he was doing it.

Sam coughed all over again, and Dean’s eyes snapped back up to him.

“What?”

Sam laughed again, actually wiping his eyes this time before looking back at Dean with a grin.

“Dude, you had that kid’s eyes out on _stalks_ out there. And his _mom_ … I thought she was gonna have an aneurysm or something,”

Clearly whatever had Sam in a fit Dean was completely unaware of; Sam seemed to have a habit of finding things funny that he could never quite explain to Dean of late; it was quite unnerving at times, and at others like now just plain annoying.

“What kid?”

“I believe Sam is referring to the small boy in the red Toyota parked next to the Impala,” Cas said calmly, looking over at Sam as though waiting for his nod of confirmation.

“I’ll say,” Sam blasted out, chuckling to himself all over again; Dean looked between the two of them hoping one of them would explain what the hell was going on.

“I believe he was… surprised when you kissed me, Dean,”

Dean’s own eyes grew a little wider and thinking back to just a few minutes ago when he’d grabbed Cas as he’d headed towards this diner and pulled him into a quick kiss. It was only that—a quick kiss, a tiny thing that no one had any business reacting to or even looking at. Dean had a vague recollection of eyes on him then, but nothing more, so continued to look between them expectantly and none too patiently either.

“His mother… did not approve,” Cas continued, his tone measured as though checking his words before he revealed them to him, as though he expected a negative reaction.

“No?” Dean asked, already not caring. Or _telling_ himself he didn’t care; he wasn’t blind to people’s bigotry when they saw him and Cas from time to time, but neither did he think they deserved a second of him _hurting_ over it.

“No,” Cas confirmed, pressing his lips together.

Sam cleared his throat, his smile dropping for a second and turning into a distasteful scowl. “She, uh. She covered her son’s eyes with her hand, and mumbled something about you being _corrupt immoral belligerents_ who had no place… desecrating the place with your _lifestyle_ ,”

Dean frowned, and sighed unhappily now, showing that okay yes, in fact these things _did_ get to him, and judging by Sam quoting back word for word what had been said about them, it had clearly got to Sam as well, which he hated. He hated people’s attitudes sometimes, especially when they were minding their own business living their own lives, and absolutely not doing anything wrong.

“Yeah, well, maybe _she’s_ the immoral one teaching her kid all that intolerance, huh?”

“Agreed,” Sam said, nodding, though the second of seriousness faded back into a grin almost as quick as it had appeared.

“And it was the incorrect use of the word _belligerent_ ,” Cas added sounding thoroughly affronted though justified; Dean turned into him suspiciously before turning back to Sam again and gesturing for an answer.

“So in the three minutes I went ahead and was in the bathroom you what—went and lectured her on her _grammar_?”

Cas’ uncomfortable shift and Sam’s snort of laughter told Dean just how close he was to being right.

“Cas went over to her at her table and lectured her on the kind of things that actually _were_ immoral, like her almost-bald tyres that could in theory be a hazard on the road, her _corrupting_ her son to think like a bigot—all kindsa things, including suggestions for other words to use besides _belligerent_. She keeps looking over like we’ve left a bad taste in her mouth, and every time she catches my eye, I...”

Sure enough, Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s left and he snorted with laughter again. Dean turned around in the booth looking almost over his shoulder and sure enough came face to face with a glare that he gave a shrug at then fixed with his own cold stare, pouring aggression into the look, before turning back to Sam and Cas and letting the scowl drop.

“Well okay then. Still not seeing why you’re laughing like you’re having a seizure,”

Cas glanced over at Dean then with a look that said he shared Dean’s opinion; Dean decided to dismiss the entire thing and concentrate on the coffee being poured into his mug instead.

Their food arrived, the silent trade-offs between the three of them between their plates done in its usual unhurried manner, with Dean absently dunking a fry into the sauce on Cas’ plate and giving it a hum of approval, and Cas leaning over to slide out a slice of pickle from Dean’s burger before he even gave it a bite.

Sam’s eyes darted between them as though he was desperate to laugh all over again but he didn’t, instead concentrating on his own plate and smiling quietly to himself, just enough for Dean to catch and roll his eyes at but not comment.

As they ate they discussed their current case, discreetly going over possibilities and dismissing some ideas whilst others occurred to them. They made quick work of their food, all three of them starving after having a hurried breakfast that morning before rushing off to interview witnesses and look around the town they were currently in trying to work out what was going on.

Cas was the first to finish, sitting back against the booth with a quiet huff of contentment and closing his eyes. They flew open immediately at the feel of Dean’s pinky finger gently dabbing at the corner of his mouth, and Cas watched as he wiped his hands on a napkin as he grinned at him.

“Missed a bit,” he winked, leaning in and kissing Cas, perhaps with a bit too much linger for being in another person’s company, but if Sam was insistent on giggling and making amused noises to himself over there from across the booth _whatever_ they did, well. Dean wasn’t going to change his behavior around Cas for _Sam_. “You taste good,”

Sam groaned in bemused frustration, thunking his head back and grinning between the two of them with a look of sheer amused disbelief.

“What?” Dean demanded again, feeling his own frustration on not being in on the joke, because clearly Sam was making connections in his mind and seeing some bigger, funnier picture than Dean himself was currently seeing.

Sam looked between them again, this time more slowly as if by doing that Dean would understand what the hell he was on about. Which, unfortunately, Dean did not.

“Nothing,” Sam settled for with a snort to himself that he tried to disguise as another cough, dropping his eyes away from Dean’s glare. “Nothing at all,”

* * *

“This smells delicious, Claire, thank you for cooking for us,”

Dean paused and leaned just outside the doorway, smiling as he heard Cas and Claire quietly moving around the kitchen.

“Yeah, well. Jody taught me a thing or two, and… I remember some recipes from my mom, so,”

Dean imagined the faked nonchalant shrug from Claire, and the sorrowful look of guilt from Cas, and felt his heart sink for both of them. Idly, Dean thought of Jimmy Novak then, hoped he was looking over them all. Hoped he was seeing the tentative trust and growing relationship between Cas and Claire and that it gave him hope, and a sort of pride, or sense of purpose, knowing that despite his sacrifice Claire had grown up strong, and brave, and was learning only too well how to hold her own. But was surrounded by people who cared about and looked out for her as well.

“Thanks for letting me stay,”

Claire’s polite embarrassed face was happening right about now, Dean didn’t doubt, as she awkwardly turned to Cas to say it, and Cas would in turn be giving that easy smile of his that Dean was returning from out here, even though he wasn’t seeing it for himself.

“Of course. It is very good to see you. And we have ample room,”

“And your wifi’s _awesome_ ,” Claire enthused; Dean heard her turning back around sounding as though she was over by the stove.

“I believe Sam is the one that needs the thanks for that,”

“Guess so. Here. Come ‘ere,”

Dean could hear the hesitant confusion in Cas’ step as he walked over to Claire; Dean ducked his head around the corner to watch as Claire held out a spoon for Cas to taste. Cas leaned in and sipped, making a pleased humming sound that even from here Dean could tell had Claire beaming. Dean ducked away again immediately as Cas turned back his way, not wanting to interrupt but absolutely happy to continue eavesdropping from out here.

“Should I tell Sam and Dean that it is ready?”

“Nah, not yet. Give it another ten. What’re we drinking?”

Dean listened to the sound of the fridge being opened and imagined the two heads bending down to peer inside, grinned at Claire’s complaint of _“What’s with all the green juice?”_ and the only part of Cas’ reply he caught, which was a mumbled, _“Sam,”_

“So,” Claire said after a moment of silence, clearly having gone back over to inspect her cooking because he could hear a pan being shuffled about. “You and Dean, huh? Still good?”

Dean’s face twisted into a grin, letting his head fall back softly against the wall where he was leaning and his eyes drift close.

He didn’t need to listen for Cas’ reply of “Yes, we are _good_. _Very_ good,” to know they already were, but he did anyway.

He and Cas  _were_ good, were so good in fact that Dean couldn’t really remember a time when they hadn’t been now, which was a little surprising considering how long it took to get to where they now were. In fact that might even be a bit irresponsible, Dean thought to himself with a frown, that they could somehow _forget_ the struggle they took to get to their current point. Dean did his best every day to let Cas know how happy he was, how lucky he felt; he hoped it was enough.

“Never thought it was weird, you know?” Claire said then, and Dean’s eyes fell open in interest.

“What?”

“You and Dean,” Claire said, as though, _duh_ , though clearly smiling. “Dude. You’re wearing my dad’s _face_. My dad only ever kissed my _mom_. And _you’re_ always all over _Dean_ ,”

“Claire, I—”

“‘S cool though,” Claire continued, still clearly checking everything was as perfect as it could be for dinner; possibly even pausing enough to appreciate the way she’d managed to make Cas blush. “I mean. You’re _you_. I don’t even _see_ Dad now when I look at you, you know? And you and Dean… you _look_ happy,”

Cas made a sound that was clearly somewhere between pleased, proud and humbled; Dean smiled to himself, really happy to hear Claire’s acceptance even though he knew they already had it.

“You know, if I were a couple of years younger I’d be taking full advantage of this whole divorced-parents-with-new-families thing we got going on,” Claire added then, instantly piquing both Cas and Dean’s interest a little more. And Cas was obviously doing that cute tilting head thing he did when he was confused, because Claire was laughing at him. Dean didn’t need to peer around the corner to know _that_ was happening.

“You know. Double the presents. Parent one says no, parent two says _yes_. I’m living with surrogate mom _Jody_ , so _Sam’s_ gotta impress _me_ to keep me happy and him in _my_ good books so he can stay in _hers_. You know. If this _was_ a couple a years ago. Not _now_ , not—not really,”

Dean bit down hard on his lip to stop the laughter threatening to escape, wondering how soon he could tell Sam about Claire’s little analogy and hilarious logic.

“And then I got you and Dean,” Claire continued; Dean’s eyes automatically widened. “You two were already like my two dads _anyway_ , fussing over me all the time even before I moved _in_ to Jody’s, so. _He_ doesn’t have to keep me on side. He already makes you happier than is probably legal, so, it’s kinda enough, you know?”

There was a lump in Dean’s throat then out of nowhere. He closed his eyes and allowed Claire’s words wash over him, sighing softly to himself.

“I… I believe Dean would be honored to hear you talking of him in that way, Claire,” Cas said then, soft and grateful as anything; it would take a lesser man than Dean himself to not be tearing up right about now.

“Yeah, well. His badassery kinda out balances his dad jokes, so,” and Dean was sure he could hear her shrug. “Don’t tell him I said that though,”

Dean opened his mouth to protest but then reminded himself he wasn’t even supposed to be listening in the first place. He settled for feeling mildly affronted though secretly pleased, steeling himself a little longer in silence before loudly announcing his presence and walking in.

“Perfect timing,” Claire announced with a smile, spinning away and coming back to him with a spoonful of the sauce held out for him to try. Dean bent and opened his mouth, humming pleased around the flavor bursting on his tongue, and gave her a wink.

“Awesome,” Dean grinned, and it was true. He had no idea what she’d put in there but it worked, and his compliment had her beaming at him before she turned away again.

“Almost ready. One of you wanna go and yell at Sam?” Claire asked over her shoulder giving the pan a final stir and then turning off the heat.

“I’ll go,” Cas offered softly, stepping up to Dean and resting his forehead on Dean’s shoulder for a moment before walking away with an absent smile.

“Cute,” Claire announced when Dean looked back from watching Cas leave. Dean shrugged, because there was no other way to comment on that, and began to pull the plates out to set the table.

* * *

Cas lifted his head as lightning lit up the room seconds before a peal of thunder rumbled, looking around blearily and sighing softly against Dean’s shoulder before nuzzling back into him.

“I used to enjoy storms,” he mumbled into Dean’s skin, pressing a kiss to his chest and snuggling back even closer to him.

Dean smiled, tightening his arms, looking up unseeingly at the ceiling and listening to the rain raging outside, feeling content and personally enjoying the storm, though not enough to move from where he was laid to get up and watch it for himself.

“I still do,” he said quietly, loving that sense of calmness that washed over him with every flash of light and every crashing rumble.

“They are somewhat less enjoyable when you yourself get soaked by them, and have to walk around in wet clothing for an unbearable length of time,” Cas grumbled; Dean smirked to himself and stroked a hand down Cas’ back as though to placate him. Cas really did seem to object very harshly to wet clothing against his skin, not that Dean wouldn’t also object about that himself. Their things were now dotted around the room over doors and radiators slowly drying out, however, and everything would be dry by the time they decided to leave in the morning, so Cas would have nothing to complain about by then.

“Good thing we’re _a_ , already inside and _b,_ already not wearing anything then, huh?” Dean whispered with amusement, and grinning harder still as Cas adjusted and slid his leg between his and settled again, humphing quietly to himself.

Dean splayed his fingers out and stretched them over as much of Cas’ skin he could reach at once then arched his back, closing his eyes. Here in this motel room with their case resolved a few hours before, Sam happily passing this one up to he and Cas to deal with to spend some time alone with Jody, and Cas stretched, sated and sleepy up against his skin, Dean couldn’t imagine feeling happier.

True, the motel wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, and wasn’t anywhere near as good as the hotels Charlie kept booking for he and Cas from time to time. But it saved them having to drive back in this heavy rain, and it meant Cas hilariously complaining about poor quality headboards, though he hadn’t stopped those complaints slipping into moans of an entirely different kind as he’d crawled between Dean’s legs and sunk into him. And those were the kind of things Dean wouldn’t trade for anything, not one moment of them.

With another contented sigh and stretch Dean squeezed around Cas lightly, raising a hand up to slip his fingers through the back of Cas’ hair.

“Whaddya say when we get back, we get Charlie to do her magic and find us a place somewhere, take a couple of days for ourselves. Let Sam, Jody and Donna pick up the slack for the next one?” he asked, bending his head to mumble into the top of Cas’ as though suggesting something secret, and private.

Somewhere along the way, and Dean wasn’t really sure how or when it had happened, the burden of hunting had lessened, been spread what felt a little more fairly out to the entire hunting network. Cas and Sam had begun mapping and cataloguing called in hunts from others, and all the experiences from both themselves and those documented by the Men of Letters, to produce this kind of interactive _database_ of hunting that Dean scoffed at, pretended he didn’t get, though secretly thought was something they could’ve done with _years_ ago. He even affectionately called it _Bobby 2.0_ , which had seemed to stick with them all.

Dean allowed a moment of doubt then, because whilst there were a lot more hunters now to pick up the flack, that also meant a lot more people who’d been through similar experiences to he and Sam, who’d been exposed to the world of supernatural and been so wounded by it they felt it was their life’s work to fight back, to avenge the ones they loved and thanklessly protect all of those oblivious people around them.

Perhaps it was too idealistic to fantasize about a world without any need for all of them, for all they continued to do to keep the rest of the world safe, but it was a good fantasy. A hope for the future even if it was in this messed up world that did its best to rip itself apart by itself, without even knowing what was going on with other forces attempting to do just that anyway on so many occasions.

Cas looked up as though that doubt had caused Dean to tense up, fixing him with a look that _said_ he understood, even if he didn’t know exactly what Dean was thinking. He leaned over him, ducking down to give him a soft kiss, humming in approval at himself as he did and shifting himself up more, kissing him slowly, and gently, and definitely easing Dean’s moment of negativity away until he was back to just being content again.

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Dean,”

Dean had a second of forgetting what his idea had actually been, then grinned at thoughts of soft sheets and thick mattresses and Cas, Cas and only Cas, and him, in a hotel room somewhere with nothing to concentrate on but each other.

Dean grinned deeper, gripping Cas a little harder so he could turn them over, and grinning even harder still when Cas arched beneath him and bumped their chests together as Dean settled over him and between his legs.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, stirring his hips against Cas and bending down to nuzzle and nibble at Cas’ neck, feeling his smile before he even raised his head to see it.

Cas reached out and stroked his hands down the length of Dean’s back, slotting his fingers together around his middle and curling his legs around Dean’s, rolling up a little himself.

“Yes. I believe it is the best idea you have ever had,”

Dean snorted into Cas’ neck where he’d dropped back down to kiss a trail there and straightened back up, grinning at him though pretending to look indignant.

“Dude. All my ideas are good ideas. All the _time_ ,”

Cas’ lips trembled with the effort of not laughing, but his eyes were already dancing with amusement and giving him away.

“Whatever you say, Dean. Although I do admit that any of your ideas involving us being like _this,_ ” Cas punctuated his words with a slow roll of his hips that forced a soft moan out of Dean’s mouth, “are possibly the best ideas mankind has ever had,”

A helpless chuckle burst out of Dean then and he shifted to bracket Cas’ face between his elbows, his fingers toying with the strands of his hair and his chest so full of happiness that he felt he couldn’t help the way he grinned down at Cas before bending to kiss him yet again.

“You,”

“ _What_ me, Dean?”

“Just… _you_ ,” Dean said again, feeling so ridiculously happy in that moment that his jaw hurt from smiling so much.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Cas mused to himself as though considering Dean’s words, then nodded. “I will, however, allow it,”

“Oh you’ll allow it, will you?” Dean huffed, dropping his head against and biting softly on Cas’ earlobe, then down on his shoulder and up along his neck.

Cas hummed his approval and arched again, unslotting his fingers and sliding his hands over Dean’s ass, rolling beneath him as he held Dean exactly where he wanted him.

“I will,”

“What else will you allow, huh?” Dean demanded, circling his hips and both surprised and unsurprised to feel them both swelling again. It shouldn’t be possible, he didn’t think anyway, not at his age, not when they were both already spent and so tired after their case.

But he and Cas, well. They were always like _this_. He sure wasn’t going to complain about it.

Cas rolled his hips again, also grinning as they began to knock against each other and catch, his smile wicked and his thoughts lewd, judging by the way Dean felt him suddenly jolt a little thicker against him.

Dean looked down to try and see them for a second, then rolled his eyes at himself and reached out to switch the light on then looking again, his throat clicking as he tried to swallow when he saw how close to erect Cas already was.

“How’d you do that already?” Dean half complained, half already matching himself. Cas reached out to wrap a hand around them both and hummed to himself, rolling his hips up again.

“I believe _you_ were the cause of that,” Cas smiled, amused, “And as for what I will allow…”

Dean bit down on his lip at the _intent_ behind Cas’ eyes, thrusting himself a little into Cas’ hand.

“I will allow you anything you want, Dean. I am yours for the taking, as always,”

A whine escaped Dean’s mouth at Cas’ words, helpless but to lean forward and claim a desperate kiss, take a moment to silently thank his lucky stars that he had Cas, and that he had Cas like _this_ , and then bent to suck a bruise into Cas’ neck, splaying his fingers to touch as much of Cas at once as was possible, and thought about where he intended to start _taking_ first.

* * *

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

“Hey,”

Maybe Sam was right that Dean probably needed surgery to unstick his face from smiling these days, but seeing Cas approaching with bags in his hands and gracefully sliding off his shoes to nudge them neatly to the side without the slightest of wobbles, all while beaming back at him as though he hadn’t seen Dean in a week, there was no way Dean was about to apologise for his smile.

Cas dropped his bags down against the wall and then fluidly to his knees straddling Dean, raising his hand to slowly cup Dean’s jaw and bending down to kiss him slowly.

“Hello,”

“Cas, dude, c’mon, you’re like… five seconds in front of me and you’re already _mounting_ my brother?”

Cas pulled back from kissing Dean reluctantly and fixed him with a look, both of them turning to look at Sam before Cas balanced on one knee to roll over and on to his side, wriggling in the cushions beside Dean and getting comfortable.

“Hey. You wanted to come to this hippy set up so you can put up with the free love, alright?” Dean retorted, grinning at Sam’s less graceful removal of shoes before he too was down on the cushions opposite them and propping himself up on a wall, sighing in relief, half-forgetting the bags still in his hands.

Sam took a moment to appreciate stretching out fully and wriggling his toes, with Dean leaning out himself to nudge Sam’s foot away from them, before Sam idly muttered, “If you guys are free loving I’m leaving,”

Dean opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut again when Cas wrapped his fingers over the back of Dean’s hand and lifted, ducking beneath it and settling against him before plucking the book from his hands and smiling at it.

“And if you start reciting poetry at him I’m absolutely leaving,” Sam said in a half-horrified tone, glancing down at the book Cas was now holding and slowly shaking his head. Cas tilted his chin, stage whispering a couple of couplets of Neruda into Dean’s ear—in Spanish of course, because he was evil like that, knowing exactly what him speaking other languages did to Dean.

Sam’s pointed clearing of his throat had Dean’s eyes snapping open again from where they’d drifted closed with a pleased hum to himself at hearing Cas speak, giving a half-smile of apology and tilting his head in the direction of the menu.

“Coffee’s good. They even got this _cake_ that’s like… sex on a plate,”

“Which reminds me. Seriously? In the kitchen? When you know _exactly_ how long it takes me to go for a run and when I’ll be back?” Sam glared at them both, flinching at their joint wicked smile and reaching for a menu, clearly wanting to put those images far from his mind.

“Hey, we’re on _vacation_ ; we can all do whatever the hell we want, wherever we wanna do it,” Dean protested, though still feeling both smug and embarrassed about Sam walking in on them yesterday morning. “You gonna order or what?”

A waitress appeared at that very moment smiling down at them all; with Cas and Sam quickly choosing something from the menu and Dean getting a second coffee and a small tart, ( _"What? ‘S hours since breakfast, and let me say it again: vacation,"_ ) before she left them alone again.

Cas hummed to himself, clearly comfortable, stretching in that catlike way Dean accused him of doing more than once, and angled himself back a little to drop a kiss on Dean’s shoulder. Dean caught Sam’s eye, raised an eyebrow daring him to comment; Sam smiled but said nothing.

Dean took a moment to take in their surroundings again. This cafe was one of those weird shoes-off piles-of-cushions-and-beanbags soft-floored kind of places that he’d always scoffed at on passing and looked down on a bit mockingly. But now he’d been here an hour whilst Sam and Cas went shopping, sat happily on a pile of cushions in a corner with his book, Dean was rapidly changing his opinion.

“Get everything you wanted?” he asked, eyes gliding over both of their sets of bags with interest. This impromptu vacation they’d taken together with the help of Charlie (“ _You ever gonna call me just to say ‘hey’ sometime ‘stead of just ‘hey, Charlie, how’s about rustling us up some decent accommodation, huh?’ You owe me LARPing. And allegiance. And… all the gory details when you get back,"_ ) seemed to stir a need for _things_ from both Sam and Cas. Not that Dean ever minded; if it was up to him the bunker would be overflowing with _things_ for them both.

“And then some,” Sam smiled, reaching out and patting his bags absently before folding his arms across his chest and closing his eyes. “How’s the head?”

Dean stilled for a moment, because he’d forgotten he was supposed to have had a headache, and that _that_ had been his ruse for some alone time before meeting them both here in this cafe.

“Uh, good. Better,”

Cas lifted his head and looked at Dean suspiciously for a moment then leaned in to drop a kiss on his temple and laid his head down again; Dean hoped the relieved thud his heart gave wouldn’t give him away.

“Good, ‘cos Cas found this microbrewery and we bought a ton of stuff to try when we get back to the apartment,”

Dean smiled, thinking of the champagne nestled hopefully out of sight in the back of the fridge, and said nothing. Champagne had become something of a tradition of he and Cas’ when they went away together like this; the taste had certainly grown on him, but Cas’ obvious enjoyment of it meant Dean wouldn’t mind having the stuff around all the time just to see the way his face lit up when drinking it.

The apartment Charlie had rented them was huge, with his and Cas’ room and Sam’s room at opposite ends of the same corridor with their own ensuites, meaning noise didn’t travel and they each had their own privacy but still had the living room and kitchen to congregate in when they wanted to do something together. Including tonight, when he intended to cook them all a really good dinner with the ingredients he’d secretly brought earlier when Sam and Cas had gone out without him.

Easy conversation followed, with Sam and Cas showing Dean half of their purchases, and Sam and Cas both agreeing with Dean’s opinion that the coffee was good and that the cake was, indeed, sex on a plate. They left an hour or so later, with Dean pulling Cas to his feet and cupping his face to claim himself a kiss that Sam snorted at but went about his business getting his shoes back on instead of commenting on.

As they left, Dean grabbed the majority of Cas’ bags and wrapped his arm securely around his waist, his thumb slipping beneath the hem of Cas’ t-shirt and stroking a circle there into his skin. Dean’s grin was automatic as Cas slid on his sunglasses with a private smile on his face, glancing at them for a second before putting them on.

“Shoulda asked Jody along,” Dean told Sam for the third time as they walked. Sam shrugged easily and shook his head.

“She’s got some girls weekend going on with Donna. Sounded hungover as hell when I spoke to her earlier,”

“Where’d they go?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

“I didn’t wanna ask,” Sam snorted giving a pained groan. “Apparently they were celebrating Donna’s promotion and they were _celebrating hard_ with some friends. Donna still sounded drunk when she snatched up the phone and started singing at me. Helluva voice though, even then,”

All three of them laughed at that image, continuing down the street with smiles on their faces at their friends being silly and happy and possibly more than worse for wear by now.

Back at the apartment, Dean grabbed the beer Sam and Cas had bought and ushered them out of _his_ kitchen, telling them they couldn’t come back in until he told them they could. He handed a beer to them both before shooing them both away, placating Cas with a kiss that went some way to wiping the disgruntled look off of his face, then spun and clapped his hands together, beginning to put together their dinner.

A couple of hours later when he’d stood on the threshold of the kitchen to block the entrance and passed off more beer to Sam and more kisses to Cas, Dean looked over everything he’d made and nodded to himself, pleased that everything had gone exactly as he’d wanted it to.

With a glance over his shoulder, Dean quietly opened the door that led out on to the terrace of their rented apartment and began setting up a table there, happy to feel that though there was a breeze it was neither cold nor too strong for them to be eating outside.

Dean set everything out, downing the last of his own beer he’d been sipping at whilst cooking, then went back inside, making the excuse to Sam and Cas on passing them laid out on the sofa with books in their hands that he needed to change his shirt because he’d spilt something. He did just that, even taking the very quickest of showers to clean himself off a little, then nodded to himself in the mirror and walked back through.

“K. Dinner’s ready,” he announced, with Sam and Cas looking up at him as one again, and both standing and stretching, pushing their books to one side. Dean ushered them both straight out on to the terrace and followed them out seconds later with pans of food that he carefully laid out along the center of the table, smiling proudly as both of them made hums of approval as he loaded up their plates.

Dean sat for a moment watching them both tuck in, drinking in the sight of them both content, happy and whole, before starting to eat anything himself.

The microbrewery beer went down well with the meal, all of them patting their stomachs and smiling contentedly when it was over. They sat a while just like that, giving their food a little time to go down and talking about anything and nothing, occasionally glancing up at the slowly darkening sky that announced the end of the day.

Dean stood then, switching on the lights on the terrace and suggesting since it was warm they should sit out a while; to one side of the terrace was some furniture perfect just for that, and Sam and Cas smiled their agreement immediately.

“I’ll go load the dishwasher and clean up a bit,” Sam said, fixing Dean with a look that had him swallowing nervously. “Why don’t you guys finish your beers over there and I’ll be right back out.” They stood and stretched again, yawning with fullness, with Dean reaching out a moment later to slide his fingers through Cas’ and lead him over, smiling as Cas leaned in the second they were sat to kiss him in thanks.

“Dinner was delicious,”

“Glad you liked it,”

“Very much so,” Cas said, almost seriously, before ducking under Dean’s arm and settling in against his side. “Is that why you lied about having a headache? So that you could buy everything you needed to cook?”

Dean snorted, shaking his head; because of course Cas would know he was lying. He leaned down to kiss him and shrugged; Cas raised an eyebrow at him for a moment then laid back down.

“This is your vacation as well as ours, Dean. You are not here to wait on us. But thank you again,”

Dean squeezed Cas softly and pressed a kiss to the side of his head, letting his own rest there a moment with his eyes closed. Dean waited another minute then drained his beer, setting the bottle down on the floor beside him and turning a little into Cas.

“So I was thinking,” he started, clearing the crack in his throat before he could continue. “You and me. We’ve been, uh, well. _You and me_. For a while now. For longer time than we— _I_ , even acknowledged it,”

Cas seemed to sense the tension Dean was feeling and slowly lowered his own bottle to the floor, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.

“We have,” Cas replied, curious caution in his voice.

“And I got… every intention... Of us being _you and me_ for a bit longer. Longer in fact,”

Internally Dean cursed at himself for never seeming to have the right words, but judging from the warm smile on his face Cas didn’t seem to have any objection to the ones he was saying.

“If you will have me, I believe we will have _always_ together, Dean,” Cas replied softly, and seriously, and with such _love_ in his eyes that Dean already felt himself choking up.

“So the whole, ‘death do us part’ kinda deal, right?”

For a moment Dean wondered if Cas would even get the significance of his words, but then Cas was beaming back at him, and nodding. “I would imagine a lot longer than that Dean. Are you certain you will want me _that_ long?”

“Longer,” Dean assured him, leaning in for a kiss that went on much longer than he’d intended.

“So,” he said eventually, pulling back a little but still grinning. “I know we can’t, like, officially do this, ‘cos of, well. This life of ours, but. But I wondered if maybe… I mean, only if you want to, of course, and I understand if you _don’t_ , and—”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, eyes growing wide as he stared back at him.

Sighing out hard as though that would force his nerves away, Dean shifted so he could slide his hand into his back pocket and brought it back, laying it palm upwards on Cas’ lap.

“Thought maybe… maybe we could start wearing these. Like… you know. Permanently and all that,”

Cas’ gaze dropped down to Dean’s hand, and his finger reached out shakily to trace over the two matching rings there, before looking back up at Dean with a tremble to his face and a brightness to his eyes.

“Whaddya say, Cas?”

Dean held his breath, fearful that even now, even after everything they’d been through that somehow he’d read things wrong, and maybe, well maybe Cas wouldn’t _want_ this tie to him at all; even one that wasn’t technically legally binding.

Cas’ face split in to a grin as tears dropped on to his cheeks and he nodded eagerly back at him.

“Yes, Dean. Of course, of course I want that,”

Through bleary eyes, because of course he was now crying himself, Dean reached out and picked up a ring, gently taking Cas’ hand and sliding the ring down over his finger, squeezing lightly over it with the tips of his fingers and relieved to find it was a good fit. Cas reached out himself, trembling hard as he slid on Dean’s ring, wrapping his fingers through Dean’s to raise his hand, and stroking a finger over the ring, inspecting it before doing the same to his own, with such a startled look of wonder on his face that had Dean laughing and crying at the same time.

Cas’ head snapped up, still looking in shock, but the shock quickly bled away into the happiest smile possible, especially as they both went to wipe the tears from each other at the same time and ended up laughing for it.

“You and me, huh, Cas?” Dean whispered, leaning in close and glancing all over his face as he nodded.

“Yes, Dean,”

Cas closed the gap between them then, pressing their mouths together one moment then slipping his hand around to cradle Dean’s head as they kissed the next. Dean sighed out in relief, only allowing a second of thought to consider that his nerves were pointlessly irrational, before kissing back with all the feeling he could, every press of his lips to Cas’ trying to represent just how very much this moment, and every moment with Cas, meant to him.

The smile on Cas’ face when he pulled back told Dean he’d got it, and agreed with him completely.

“Is it safe to come out yet?”

They both turned around as Sam called out to them, laughing as he struggled to carry a tray with three glasses on and that bottle of champagne Dean had snuck into the fridge, and showing how ever-resourceful and pragmatic Winchesters were, by turning a huge salad bowl into an ice bucket to balance the bottle in. Sam stood there with his eyes screwed up, quickly opening one to check what was happening in front of him then dropping his shoulders a little in relief and opening both of his eyes, all but running up to them.

“You knew about this?” Cas asked, his voice lifting as though thoroughly surprised.

“‘Course he did,” Dean smiled, reaching out for bottle and pouring them all a glass. “Best wingman ever,”

Sam grinned at Dean’s praise and then cleared his throat, raising his glass solemnly. “To my two favorite people. Cas, you’re already the best brother-in-law a guy could ask for and, you know. You put up with Dean, so. Gotta be worth keeping you around,”

“Hey,” Dean objected, though his smile jarred completely against the tone in his voice.

“To my two favorite people,” Sam started again, still grinning. “Aside from Jody of course. You tell her I said that and—”

“Sam—”

“May your springs be sturdy and your chair legs be stable—”

“Sam—” Dean protested again; Cas quietly laughed beside him, sliding his hand through Dean’s and smiling at him when he looked back around.

“To my two favorite people,” Sam said, for a third time, this time looking a little more serious though a smile still wavered over his lips. “Took you long enough. I’m… unbelievably happy for you guys. You deserve it,”

“You know we’re not, like, _officially_ married here, right. Like… this isn’t an actual _wedding_ ,” Dean laughed, although he knew they didn’t need anything like that to make what he and Cas had real; the rings were just a symbol of that. One that sent a thrill of excitement through him as he kept catching glimpses of their rings as they sat there, Dean smiled to himself, thinking how very _right_ it felt seeing those symbols.

“Doesn’t make it any less real,” Sam countered, shrugging.

“It _is_ real,” Cas added softly, then proceeded to tell them both of several traditions throughout human history that would have their simple promise to each other be _more_ than marriage enough. Dean beamed at Cas stupidly throughout his lecture, surging with that feeling of _right_ and _good_ and _wholeness_ that he knew he had never known until now.

Eventually they remembered the glasses in their hands, clinked them together in cheers and drank. The bottle was gone within the hour, but Sam disappeared back inside and brought out another that he’d sneakily managed to buy behind Cas’ back earlier, with Dean beaming at him in thanks.

Sam shoved the bottle in their ice salad bowl-bucket then span away, bringing two chairs from the table they’d eaten at to place in front them so they could each stretch out and put their feet up. And the rest of the evening passed quietly, with the champagne slowly disappearing and each of them occasionally pausing from their conversation to look up at the stars overhead, Dean’s foot bumping against Cas’ on their shared chair from time to time and their hands never leaving each other for almost the entire evening. Dean felt himself beaming every single time Cas loosened their grip to trace his fingers over Dean’s ring finger before slotting them through his again.

“Know what else I bought?” Sam announced much, much later, after champagne had been replaced by beer, Dean had retrieved a pie he insisted was _wedding_ pie, and Sam had taken enough photos of them wrapped up in each other to send on with their news to the few people they felt needed to be told.

There had been three babbling voice messages in quick succession from Charlie sounding almost as though she was vibrating with excitement for all of them, and a string of messages from Jody, Donna and Claire that had them half laughing, half groaning with embarrassment.

Dean turned to look at Sam now, curious about his sudden outburst.

“Earplugs,” Sam said, sounding proud, amused with himself, and, Dean reflected, much drunker than he currently felt himself. “So you two can go at it like you always do and _consummate_ all you like,”

“That is the most recognized way of formalizing a marriage,” Cas reasoned solemnly looking back at Dean glassy-eyed, though still much more lucid-looking than Sam, who was now doubled over with laughter and looking in danger of falling off his chair.

“‘K,” Sam announced standing suddenly and having to hold his hands out and bend his knees for a moment to steady himself. “Leaving you to it. Thanks for letting me share this evening with you, guys, it… it meant a lot,”

The drunken, earnest happiness on Sam’s face had Dean biting back a laugh, but Cas was on his feet in an instant and pulling Sam into a hug, mumbling something into his ear that had Sam dropping and squeezing his hands around Cas’ waist and throwing his head back with a howl.

“I do not need to know,” Dean grumbled, though standing himself and pulling Sam into a hug of his own. Sam beamed back at him then turned quickly and unsteadily, with Dean wincing and holding out his hands in case Sam needed them whilst he righted himself.

Cas and Dean turned to watch Sam’s winding path back inside and smiled, stepping into each other’s arms automatically the moment he was through the door.

“You know, Cas,” Dean smiled, kissing him quickly, “There’s another wedding tradition we could have without the actual wedding,”

“I still believe that consummation is necessary, and a very good idea,” Cas grinned; Dean burst out laughing and dropped his head down on Cas’ shoulder for a second then straightened back up.

“ _Before_ that,”

“What?”

“We’re doing it now,”

Cas looked down at Dean’s chest doubtfully, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing. Dean grinned, continuing to turn them in a small circle and rock Cas in his arms.

“Dancing, Cas. We’re _dancing_ ,”

Cas’ head lifted slowly in understanding, a soft smile lighting up his face. “Oh,”

A little more time passed, with Dean’s occasional kisses dropped down on Cas’ lips becoming more insistent, and Cas pressing up against him a little harder every time.

“Can I take you to bed, Cas?” Dean whispered, kissing him softly then, “Now that I’ve made an almost-honest man outta you?”

“I will always be honest with you,” Cas told him, solemn, making Dean grin all over again.

“Me too, Cas, I promise,”

“Although surprises like today are more than acceptable,” Cas added then, claiming a kiss that was full of want, and promise, and so many other things that Dean didn’t want to waste time picking them apart.

“Noted,”

“Yes, I would like that,” Cas said then, smiling. “For you. To take me to bed now,”

Dean dropped his hands from around Cas’ waist and brought them up to cup his face, kissing him insistently and hoping Cas could feel in it everything he was trying to say back to him. Then he was dropping that light grip, slotting his fingers through Cas’ and leading him back inside, hearing the word _right_ in his head and feeling it in every part of him as Cas stroked his thumb over the ring on his finger and softly squeezed his hand.

* * *

 

 


End file.
